I peel the curtain of hope
To allow a little light
Traverse through the tiny hole
Of a life that formed like gorges.
The poverty renders them hopeless
Hiding behind their own sweat
The poor people of illiterate ignorance
Shed their tears in endless sweat.
I feel, I see, I think, I do believe
Illiteracy is not a tyrant that denies
The opportunities from them
But, in truest sense we are, yes we are.
Greedy bellies that fills non-stop
And, mind that accommodate desires
The causes of imbalance wealth
Stubbornly accumulated to benefit a few.
Pain, I see pain in their faces
As they grieve with thatched clothing
Under the leaking roofs
That shies away from the sky.
With empty pots yearning for food to cook
They fight the sun to remain straight
So, they many bring back a few morsels
To cook happiness for the day.
I peel the curtain of hope
To allow a little light
Traverse through the tiny hole
Of a life that formed like gorges.
Poverty is cruel,
But, lesser to mankind.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 081108
A powerful poem, a reminder of our need to look after others and an indictment of our "greedy bellies that fills non-stop"
ReplyDeleteWith empty pots yearning for food to cook
ReplyDelete..to cook happiness for the day.
when one complains about what one has, one forgets to remember some may not even have that!
A humbling poem.
ReplyDeleteNice thought, Cyclop
ReplyDeletewishes!
devika
Always there is someone whose pot is empty or emptier...always is it our duty to share what we have.
ReplyDelete