Global Poverty (by Anila Q Haq)

(Written in Scunthorpe)

This earth has wept a million tears
for others it can weep no more.

The empty dry, blue, barren skies,
The marriage between the sun and rain,
The seed that refuses to take blame,
Riverbanks crumble, no place to hide.

The cracks go deep in places unseen
where rivers once ran wild and free
and soil aged onwards, slowly, patiently.

The sky that wept a trillion tears
for others it can weep no more.

Eyes that stare with out a care,
hopeless existence in deserts bare,
The hungry child that cries for life.
A mother’s heart tired, a heart of ice.
The death of many, the cry of blame

Too many lost,
Too many born -
Is now for many the very norm.

Hope torn. The cries, the pain,
The loss of much with little gain.