by: M.R. Manohar
My journey is on and the road is long, upon
the rugged land and villages. I keep meeting people
with dry cracks on their tired faces.
They walk through life quietly.
Their cries are silent and their pain is deep.
They are God's special people, yet marginalized
by the rich and the powerful.
I keep seeing faces that haunt my thoughts.
I see their body broken with the harshness of reality.
They live each day through hunger and thirst.
Their eyes have lost hope, as they remain the outcast.
Their tears stay hidden behind their poverty.
No one dares listen to their cry for freedom.
My journey gets harder, and the heat unbearable.
I drive through miles of tree-less land.
The children of a lesser God have opened their Doors
to the so-called development pundits,
who came in promising milk and honey
They have only proved to be agents of globalization.
Creating wider disparity between rich and poor.
Copyright ©2008 M.R. Manohar