WHITE BALLOON

One afternoon

My father took me to the park
There was a man standing with balloons in his hand
Father bought me a white balloon
But I let it go from my hand

White balloon
Floating in the sky
Like angel wings soaring high
Will I ever see my white balloon again?

One afternoon

My father took me to the park
There was a girl holding a white balloon in her hand
I watched her silently
As she released the balloon from her hand

White balloon
Floating in the sky
Like angel wings soaring high
Will I ever see my white balloon again?

One night

My father sent me to Heaven
There was a knife in his trembling hand
Father was crying on his knees
And I saw blood running down his hand

White balloon
Awaiting for me in the sky
My wings took me up high
I found my white balloon again.

One night

My father held my body tight
Protecting me from the bad men
Father was asking in his final sleep
‘Will I ever see my child again?’

Copyright owned by Amel Hanan.

I wrote this poem after looking at the forensic pics Pak Mid brought to class. One desperate father had hanged himself after he murdered his children - by poisoning and suffocating his young sons, and breaking the neck of his eldest daughter - in order to escape from the ah longs he was indebted to.