"Do You Ever Wonder What I'm Thinking?" A Child's Thoughts in the 1840s: Poem & Audio Performance / Aiko Shallenberger
A poem about the damaging and demoralizing conditions which children in the 1840s had to endure in England.
Do You Ever Wonder What I'm Thinking . . .
As the night lingers on, with its crisp lonely air
I lie here in despair,
Thinking of the sun of the morning as it rises with care.
What gets me up is,
The haunting of cruel language demanding the work of my day,
As I ponder in awe on what dreadful stay.
What keeps me from this consistent slay?
From morning till night;
Sweating, working and bleeding in the mills of death,
One day I will see the light.
With all my youthful might I will throw away this breath.
Those long days of nothing but evil flowing through my body,
I rest and ponder on what life would be like,
If this devil hovering over my shoulder were gone.
Crawling in this dark dusty tunnel,
I see the duties in front of me at hand,
Watching my skin crumble in the sand.
Day by day my body grieves and screams for rest,
But there is no turning back; I will never be blessed.
During my time of rest, I sleep as much as I can,
Dreaming of what life would belike with skies so blue,
I think of laughter and smiles: oh grief! If only it were true.
Why was I born small? Why was I born at all?
They make me crawl, they make me fall; what am I? A work doll.
All I have ever imagined was a world of relaxation.
The fight to end this tired body and consistent labor;
All of us young'uns need the help from our nation.
As years go on, I look at myself in the mirror in awe,
I see someone who is not me.
I look as old as my grandmother who is powdered with old age; I wish I were free.
I won't last very long,
One day, everything will be full of light and peace; I pray that day I will forever be
strong.
As years go by and seasons go, I stay the same old and grey boy,
Who else works like a dog the way I do?
I'll get my day to live my life with joy.
My body kicks and screams for rest and sleep, but there is no way out.
One can only wander on in a day's work of hell,
I can't help but dream of what it would be like not under a spell.
My life will improve as the years go on.
I will only get old with memories behind,
I will soon be gone but never forget what was in my mind.
With nothing but my coat and shoes in the dwelling where I used to stand,
I look back at what life was like back then; it was nothing of what I've planned.
I tried my best to warn the next one,
There is only so much I can tell you; pain is coming, run!
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