There was a small lake behind our house
That swallowed a kid or two
Our home surrounded by hills on all sides
We never see the sun set
Cherry Blossoms bloom when winter comes
The lake dries up
There was a time I could roam the rocky hills where my aunt lives
There was a small stream at the foot of the hills
We’d spent hours traversing this stream
Finding the source
It was a beautiful sight
A sight that lived within me
Almost three decades on this planet
There are no more lakes for the kids to play
The hills around me are now concrete jungles
The rocky hills I’d run to, are now barricaded by settlements
The stream now a mere shadow of what it used to be
Is this what it means to grow and sustain?
Is this what it is to evolve?
Or is this where my childhood goes to die.
Written by Daphi Wahlang
Edited by Naphtali Jordan Langstieh