i) Paperboat Crimson

We were children
in the garden
just running and playing
innocent and carefree,
giggling and laughing,

as we watched them coming
on bicycles from the north,
taking watches from wrists
taking over the country,
all the white men had fled
in a flash.

We were children
in the garden
just making and folding,
paper dolls and sailboats,
fighting and floating,

as the engines flew by
and the papers danced downwards
from white fluff in the sky;
we could not read
their writing
still strange to us.

We were children
in the garden
pondering and wondering,
secrets and messages,
murmuring and listening,

to uncles in whispers
“this damned occupation -
a time to be watchful
don’t cross them,
be careful.”

We were children
in the garden
when a shot cut the hush
and a cry cracked a window;
where the old man was hiding

a friend from his hometown
who would not bow down
and sing with a gusto
the words
of the Japanese anthem.

We were children
in the garden
when all of a sudden
our sailboats had turned
into crimson.


(c) Charlene Rajendran 1999