I am a tadpole
A tadpole made to be a frog
My safe place is a cave in some safe river
But I thread where sharks and cat fishes hunt
Just to feed
My pole can’t swim far
But what can I do?
I came from somewhere
I know I came from somewhere
Yet it seems I was thrown away like rubbish
I was never taught where the water heats
I was never taught where the river runs deep
I know there are sharp teeth everywhere
My only equipment is my size
Even sympathetics do little
And I know there are many like me
They feel cold
Hungry
Lonely
Sad
And searching for rare food
But their calls
Yield no results
I’m a tadpole
Given a frog brain
By neglect
I see painted frogs
I see frogs, fat from food
None seems to notice me
A sad world it turned out to be
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

10 replies on “INFANT LONERS”
I lived on a lake growing up. Used to catch frogs and tadpoles all the time. I liked to watch as they changed from tadpoles to frogs. So cool. Thanks for reminding me of this. I hadn’t thought of it in years.
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You’re welcome, but I used them as symbolisms here, where tadpoles are the children and frogs are adults, tadpoles here are the abandoned children. The whole poem speaks about child neglect.
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No, I realized that, but it didn’t stop me from remembering a beautiful childhood memory as a result.
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I see, I’ve never seen their transformation. You did experience good childhood. Blessings to you.
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This is heartbreaking, but at least your words give these children a voice. Beautifully written.
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Thank you Kate. I hope you are good. Yes, heartbreaking things happen around us daily. Not good.
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It’s sad to see the children who are forgotten. No where they are. It is happening to much. Even here in the states we are seeing more and more. These are the hope of tomorrow and still what we see is , I am sad to say that hope is thin, while………
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Sad, very sad.
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Its sad but true we are part of but yet most must stand alone. In life as a culture I can’t understand why there is so much of space between us. Everyone with hands but on one to hold. I love this one, a tear this morning. I can’t help myself. You struck a nerve. Blessings to you Cecilia
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Blessings to you Sheldon. This I wrote for the street children. Blessings to you.
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