Beggar Child Poem by valsala shan

Eyes beguiling beneath the tiny face of despair…
She roams the streets of the city fair….
To scratch for little strips of food in the alleys of gloom and filth..
In dark lanes of depravity masked in the depression of wealth…..

Beggar child is she who is punctured with the scars of poverty..
Lest she be thought to be a spectacle, she displays a winsome smile..
Beggar child, she is the one whose tears are dry and face lined with humility…
A little speck of dust, she beholds herself in dignity every step, every mile…

Who is this little one, I ask as I chanced upon her little figure..
Who is this little one, I ask as I look into those eyes… deep, fathomless pools of humanity…
She bestows me sweet innocence as old as time itself and answers….
I am the one you have forgotten, the one cast away by familiarity….
The one inside you and the one outside of you…she whispers…
For I am the march of time, resuscitated in history, revived in memories…
Forsaken I am not as I stand tall in the face of adversity….
Forbidden I am not as I roam freely the mazes of diversity…

Lest you forget of who I am…she whispered..
I am here among you, for neither time nor death will deceive you this hour…
I am forever your destiny, carved in the hearts of the dispersed..
For you shall repeat this cycle of madness every second, every minute, every hour..
Till death itself is no more for this beggar child of the past, present and future