The men, the women, the children walk
In a line, on the side of the dusty track.
Feet scraping, shoulders hunched, in silence, no talk.
Left, right, left, right, left, right, there’s no going back.
Some carry their lives in bundles, on their heads, their backs or hanging by their side,
Under the burden of memories, others carry themselves from falling to the ground.
Their shadows spill around them, forming dark puddles where they collide
Left right, left right, left, there’s no turning around.
They are like soldiers, they are martyrs, each one an exile,
Marching in suits starched with mud, others with dresses torn.
Feet hurting, cuts in skin that is still fragile.
Left, right, left, right, it’s behind, a cause forlorn.
Where are they to go?
Left, right, left, no rhythm in their feet.
The eyes of the world are on them, what do they have to show?
Left, right. Maybe one day they will be back, they are not yet beat.
Nas - (March 2011)
This poem I wrote after a 3 year drought of poem writing and so thought I’d share it with you.
*****
“Most of the patients here,” she said. “Suffer from terminal illnesses and disease. Many have been told they have limited time to live.” It was another day at the hospice training. And we were having a group discussion. “I want you all to get into pairs and threes if needed, and discuss what you would do if you were told you had a short amount of time to live?” I ask you that question,
What would you do if you were told you would die soon?
“It’s important because many of us never think about it. And I think we should ask it because it reminds us of our mortality.” She said after the discussion.
*****
Many people in the Middle East, in New Zealand, in Japan, were forced to ask themselves this question. There are people living today, who have the shadow of death hanging over their shoulder and they just do not know when their counter will stop counting. We’ve all heard and seen pictures of the death, the destruction, the suffering those people are going through. We’ve all heard the stories of poverty and persecution some people are a victim of each day of their lives.
When you jump into bed tonight, just spare a minute for those people, who do not have a bed in which to to sleep. Think of those people who will be resting their head amid the sound of gun fire. Think of those people who will be cuddling up against rubble. Think of the elderly, the children, the sick, the injured. Think of those that have lost brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters and friends. Think of them and say a prayer.
Please do give generously to those charitable organisations that are providing aid to those in need to the best of your ability.
________________________________
Title: Better Days – Goo Goo Dolls
Picture 1, showing a girl walking with a bag through rubble taken from here.
Picture 2, showing a woman prisoner taken from here.
Picture 3, showing a frail man laying taken from here.
Posts
