THE MARKET FIRE





It was not very late last night,
A time not seldom that I am there,
Mostly trudging, heels hitting in rhythm
In the jungle,
the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight.

Entertaining thoughts of void,
and scenes of workplace stealing in;
of the wet ground and uneven ground.
when one day I can drive, I may not walk-
but then again I like to walk.
and when again is D Day lesson planned?

I am reaching the market place
Of closing shops and drinking men

The commentary hits me
The market’s on fire
The market’s on fire
Do come look and see
The market’s on fire
Before I stumble into the murmuring crowd

Is when I look up and
See the luminous orange and
Flickering sparks,
Even smoke looks different
From the dark dark sky;
Yet smell no different
From the night-time air.

The people aren’t in their
Holiday best.
Some brought their dogs
that shifted unimpressed.
Remaining rooted to their spot,
humans shouted through their mobiles.
Some brought their kids
For fire safety education
while others stared at others staring.

The trucks lined up "like toys"
And men guard their uniform authority.
chickens came out on stretchers
the owners wept for their lost
livelihood.

I moved through like a ghost-
Even one won’t find an opening
Through this one.
But with one 'click', and one 'clock'
In the jungle
the mighty jungle
the lion sleeps tonight.