top of page

Life at the other end…

 

She sat huddled towards a tiny tin cup that was before her

A black veil completely covering her face despite the scotching sun

For a minute one would think she was praying, maybe, for a better life

 

The circumstances that had forced her there were unknown knowns for the rest of us

A little distance away, a young boy was darting about the passersby

He was neatly dressed in rags, round cheeks and round glasses that covered half his face

 

He would approach everyone with open arms and a hopeful heart

Most of them would give him a quick stare and hastily disappear into the crowds

The different few would leave their change with him, pitifully

Then he would retreat back to his mother, his legs working like oiled pistons,

The coins jiggling in his tiny hands, while a genuine smile lighting his small round face,

His mother would slowly lift up her head, draw her veil and receive it with a tear, a happy tear

 

Then the little boy would resume his rounds, this time with renewed hope,

That somehow, someone else would extend their hand of kindness and touch their dire needs

At the end of each day, they would tell the same old tale, the “not enough tale”

But either way, they had to make do with the little, they had to survive

 

So at nightfall they would set off under the moonlight,

Along the deserted streets, the closed shops, through the dark alley,

Then along the dusty footpath, the distant hills staring down at them with teary eyes

 

They would settle under the archaic bridge, their home

Quietly they would sit, clamped together to kick off the cold

The stream by them flowing merrily, its water glittering in the moonlight

The toads jumping around, the crickets chirping their night away,

So was their every night, peaceful and nature’s calm

 

Finally they would lay down to rest, but always kept an open eye

Lest the river overflowed and carried them away

Lest the night owners decided to pay them a surprise visit

But more so, lest they slept and never woke up

So each night they would pray, so that if it were to be so, God would keep their souls

 

And with that, off they would drift to dreamland, because inwardly, they were at peace.

 

 

Poems

Some great quotes by great people

"Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill."

             

                     ~Buddha

 

"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words."

 

                 ~Robert Frost

"Inspiration comes from so many sources. Music, other fiction, the non-fiction I read, TV shows, films, news reports, people I know, stories I hear, misheard words or lyrics, dreams... Motivation? The memory of the rush I get from a really good writing session - even on a bad day, I know I'll find that again if I keep going."

 

                   ~Trudi Canavan

bottom of page