Tuesday, May 3, 2011

acacia tree

A dark shroud of a night sky
beneath, still air, not stir a fly
Yonder, a little yonder from the acacia
Empty eyed, blank sate a little girl

Skeletal arms cradled a blanket
Whimpers and short cries emanate
Two little fists beat with fury
The toddler yearned for those familiar eyes

The little girl, batting not one eyelid
Under the unending canopy sat
Oblivious to the little one
Lost at a distance, the last ray of the sun

Wisped away from her, her mother
In one careless stroke of fate, no other
Left to tend for themselves. So tender
In their time, where are they to go

A dirty rag, comfort from the earth
Possession none, but sun sky and dirt
Her mind not fit to remember yet
Home is a lost dream, their suns set

Retrace she cannot her existence
Left to tend already in her innocence
A cruel life ahead, how will she sustain
Little life within her, little that remains

Mother left this morn, never to return
The acacia beneath which you remain, hidden from the sun
I’ll return soon I promise said she
Never to be seen ever since, her word she did not keep

Suddenly the girl shudders a little
A low whimper escapes her chapped lips
A solitary tear rolls down, followed by the other
Drip down on her wailing brother

she cries a while, then a little more
her eyes itch, her mouth dry, throat sore
reality creeps up from behind so suddenly
her childhood now seems a distant story

when her cries of despair cease
her eyes too dry, she gets up on her knees
she cradles the little one well
slings him over her shoulder.

She walks a short distance, from the acacia tree
A signal pauses the rage and the fury
Speeding cars and motorbikes halt
Briefly before they head off in another jolt

Those brief moments, some eyes glance
At a two foot tall creature, in a trance
A bundle weighs her frail body down
her palm extended out, a new life found

pain seeps still from her swollen eyes
her knees knock, hunger taken over, weakness
she adapted in an instant to an absence
she begs alms now, a lifetime sentence

her misery left under the acacia tree
she wanders from places, street to street
Unknowing what had become of her mother
a body lies near the rails, yonder,
five yards from the acacia tree.

Endless tales of such losses are forever heard of, and sometimes sighted…. And all we can do is live in our parallel worlds, watch them out of the small constricting windows that keep us apart from them. 

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