Everyday,
A mother watches,
As the child she gave birth to,
Breathes his last,
In her arms.
Everyday,
A sister waves goodbye to her brother,
Knowing inside,
That she may never see him again.
Everyday,
A family sits together,
Sits together and prays,
To live to see another sunrise.
We sit in the comfort of our house,
And pity the people,
Whose lives are being treated,
Like a minor pawn in a master’s chess.
Their souls hang in the balance,
Awaiting the decision,
Of the players of the chess of life.
We sit and we pray,
For the millions to receive,
Better treatment,
At the other end.
But we do not realize,
The true gravity,
Of this catastrophe,
Until we are involved.
Every decision they make,
Means another child dead,
Another brother lost.
Why do we stand at their mercy?
Our lives like a thread,
A thread they can cut,
As their heart pleases.
Why are their children not dying?
Why are their cheeks dry?
Why are they not crying?
Are they really oblivious,
To the screams of the mothers,
The sobs of the sisters?
But we still can’t realize,
The real gravity,
Of this catastrophe,
Until we are involved.
Our eyes shall open,
When our lives hand in the balance,
Awaiting the decision,
Of the players of the chess of life…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's unfortunate that in a world in which none chose where to be born, and by whom, a given people are forced to live as if they are forced to. It's foolhardy for any people to condemn others to servitude, indignity and denigration beyond words. Oppressors must know that they are a primitive race and part of those animals who digressed from the correct path of evolution and reached destination extinction. It's just a matter of time before change happens. The downtrodden must keep the fire burning; let the oil the lamps of hope in the hearts and keep vigil. It is written that no one knows the hour or the day. Salvation is at hand: cavalry is setting out. Woe and war to all the oppressors.....