I look at her, so young, so innocent
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
Her tired eyes give me a tired smile,
that stretches across miles and miles.
I look at her and I see
all that she could one day be
if only she were guided properly.
Was it her fault she was born this way? I ask myself
when will we ever do something to help?
Will we always choose to ignore reality?
Will that poor girl find a good soul in this vast city?
She looks at me and says something
something that I cannot hear.
I know its something important,
but the words are just not clear.
I choose to ignore her like everyone else does,
but my actions scar my conscience.
I think about her as I board the bus
something is not right, it does not make sense.
I get off at the next stop
and head back to where I had seen her.
But she is gone,
just like that..... In a flash.
She hadn't left alone, of this I was sure
she had left behind her grief; her sadness at being so poor.
I turn back and head homeward,
thinking of her tired eyes and tired smile,
that stretched across miles and miles.
I wonder if I would see her again
I really want to, but I realize that I might not.
And then one day, when I eventually do
she may not be the same person,
but a soul that I would have long forgot.
I head out again the next day, the same road, the same route.
I look around hoping to see her again.
Instead I see, at precisely the same spot,
another face, so young, so innocent,
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
His tired eyes, giving me a tired smile
that stretched across miles and miles.
Looking at him standing there, suddenly
I knew what I needed to do.
I took his dirty hand in mine and walked across
to the shop round the corner.
I asked him what he wanted,
but he was too shy to answer.
I got him a big bar of chocolate,
put it in his hands and asked him
"Is this not what you have always needed?"
He looked at the bar of chocolate in his hands
then he looked up at me.
I met his gaze and for the first time in my life
I saw Hope.
He seemed happy and thankful.
And so was I.
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
Her tired eyes give me a tired smile,
that stretches across miles and miles.
I look at her and I see
all that she could one day be
if only she were guided properly.
Was it her fault she was born this way? I ask myself
when will we ever do something to help?
Will we always choose to ignore reality?
Will that poor girl find a good soul in this vast city?
She looks at me and says something
something that I cannot hear.
I know its something important,
but the words are just not clear.
I choose to ignore her like everyone else does,
but my actions scar my conscience.
I think about her as I board the bus
something is not right, it does not make sense.
I get off at the next stop
and head back to where I had seen her.
But she is gone,
just like that..... In a flash.
She hadn't left alone, of this I was sure
she had left behind her grief; her sadness at being so poor.
I turn back and head homeward,
thinking of her tired eyes and tired smile,
that stretched across miles and miles.
I wonder if I would see her again
I really want to, but I realize that I might not.
And then one day, when I eventually do
she may not be the same person,
but a soul that I would have long forgot.
I head out again the next day, the same road, the same route.
I look around hoping to see her again.
Instead I see, at precisely the same spot,
another face, so young, so innocent,
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
His tired eyes, giving me a tired smile
that stretched across miles and miles.
Looking at him standing there, suddenly
I knew what I needed to do.
I took his dirty hand in mine and walked across
to the shop round the corner.
I asked him what he wanted,
but he was too shy to answer.
I got him a big bar of chocolate,
put it in his hands and asked him
"Is this not what you have always needed?"
He looked at the bar of chocolate in his hands
then he looked up at me.
I met his gaze and for the first time in my life
I saw Hope.
He seemed happy and thankful.
And so was I.
8 comments:
May I ask you whether this is an imaginary write-up or real?
I mean ... whether this is a poem about an imaginary instance or a real instance?
@ gopal
its imaginary
It gave me a feeling as if it was real. Good writing.
nice one. i liked it.
one point though - too factual to make one empathize with what's been written about. as a poet, i wud use my liberty to over emphasize what i want the readers to feel after reading the piece. not that all of us have to do it that way - just making an observation :)
@ iday
i agree to using poetic liberty to invoke the empathy feeling after reading, but it need not be the case all the time right?
thanks for the comments anyway :-)
i agree - need not be the case all the time. if it was intentional - well, who am i to comment :)
now that we agree it was intentional - i cant wait to see some of ur creations where u stretch this liberty!
forgot to add - thanks for ur comments in my blog. glad u like my writings!
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