Prerogative

What is a man to do,
poverty his life-long partner?
Scorching sun overhead,
sultry weather makes his sweat worthless.
Pulling carts all day long,
2 dollars to take home.
“How will I satiate my family…
who should go hungry…
my need or children come first…
sweet wife always to sacrifice.”

Cycle of everyday struggles,
no end in sight - no respite.
Born into poverty and die in it too,
“Why Lord this sorry lot my fate,
did I wrong while in creation …
or are You busy GIVING someone else? ”

Sitting on the curb, taking a break,
no food for hunger,
just air to breathe.
Our pity he doesn’t need,
hard work his essence, family - universe.
Does God expect him to pray?
But dear Lord I plead on his behalf:
He has no strength, no time.
For food his faith, hunger - belief,
joy his fantasy, and
death his wish.

by Sharmeen Azam

Other poems of AZAM (14)

Comments (1)

Very powerful. I only wish more people felt this way. Sincerely, Mary