I remember, under the sun and with the wind: A poem 

I can remember 

how I drew the sun over me 

like a blanket 

as I stretched in its light 

under a mango tree 

Did I imagine 

I could talk to the hot summer breeze 

and ask it for its secrets? 

Like as if the baby in the cradle 

had an instinctive knowledge 

 to ask the right questions 

But the leaves hanging over me 

hushed me into silence 

as if to say it was not the right time 

for an education. 

But I subconsciously knew 

there were whispers within me 

that would grow louder as I aged  

 And these would be the armoury 

of my wisdom and my struggle