On Steel & Concrete

By Azaan Izzam

Once we saw our foliage be green and bright,

But that of my town is grey vertical lines,

made of Claddings and Steel and Concrete.

Vertical inert structures lacking purpose by itself,

but innate with a throbbing human mass.

The masses of folk who animates grand objectives out of thin air.

Fifty Floors of objectives to the sky,

Yet none of that can fill an average man’s heart,

None can give true purpose to you, me, or many…

Inside repeating compartments of steel and concrete,

I hope to feel confident,

One neighbor undisturbed, another rents to snore and secure.

Forging these confinements for contentment day in and day out,

and assume sail towards a wrapping prosperity.

But meticulously does it unwrap to simpler elements,

All of which, time penetrates effortlessly.

Inside these spaces defined by walls,

which I wish were the other way round,

inside we find foundations of decay.

Shame we mistook it for a promising future.

Floors built of trauma and the roof upheld by prayer.

All this because our foliage is green no more nor does the wind carry songs loud when we surely remember that once it did.

By Azaan Izzam