Hands outstretched
Head bowed
She stood
Among the flood of vehicles
At the crossing
She stood,
Shrivelled baby
Perched at her hip
In the blazing sun
Eyes entreating
Hands pleading
The baby kept crying
And I kept dying
More and more
Inside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I do not blame you for being so affected. But this is crude reality. An etch on our conscience It a lovely writing. Lots of feeling, pent up. Well done. Mohabeer Beeharry