PIH (17/09/1987 / )

To: An African Mother, From: A Malnourished African Child

Born in the famine struck Africa
Living at the age of five
You told me mother,
That I was lucky to be alive.

When my friends were dying of hunger
And my health too began to crumble,
We could not afford to buy food and healthcare things,
Owing to our meagre earnings.

The day that I bid good-bye to life
Vivid memories of you I locked inside
My life conveyed a grave reality
Of numerous malnourishment deaths, indeed a pity!

Maybe God had written this fate for me,
Dying, rather than living in pain was how he had planned it to be.
I know you wished I could live a while longer
But I ask of you to find your feet and be stronger.

Mother, I know you didn't have an alternative
You dug a shallow pit & let my body rest in peace.
No Gravestone, No mark to identify my tomb by
Not even a picture of me, to look at and cry.

Standing here at heavens gate
I see you, moving on in life ahead
I have of God just one complain,
Why such short life span did you paint?

Mother, now that I no longer exist
Don't ever strike me off from your 'I love...' list!
Remember me as a glorious flower
Who happened to spread joy, though just for an hour.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 6 votes ) 9

Comments (9)

a poem which clearly paints the picture of plight of millions of children in Africa...... Certainly this is ur best and perhaps the best i have read........ truely wonderful...... keep up the good work..... tc
The way you have concluded with the last 2 verses - they leave a deep impact and the words are piercing into the mind. A very good write this one - indeed! ! You have the mastery with words and your thoughts so HUMANE. I did vote 10 but honestly this poem deserves more for all of its contents and the THEME.
...good poem - and best your message were received, when it served to inspire in those healthily alive the casual sharing of the joys of one's physical state in a mind ritually united, at times, with those who have passed on to the purely spiritual realm, and be it that it were done only in mind, not by virtually turning the bones, although the latter were yet better (exhuming them from time to time, talking to them and reburying them with gifts and new shrouds, as practiced in Madagascar) .
a beautiful poem Preeti, brings back to mind the heart wrenching pictures we see on the TV...we see and we feel and we press a button and move on to the next channel to erase the searing impression it leaves on our hearts and minds.... so sad that any human being has to suffer so regards arti
Preeti, this is such a realistic and lovely poem. It touched me n i m in tears while writing this comment.. well done... u've got what it takes to be called a 'good poet'
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