Birmingham Poem by Gajanan Mishra

Where is that place
So called Birmingham
That I know not.
But I know-
My dear son is there
To attend the call
Not of the queen but
That of his own belly.

I am so helpless here,
Though my ancesttors
Declare me independent
And sovereign, and I have
Power to frame law
For all welfare, I am
Not able to provide
Proper education and food
And shelter to my wife
And children here!

How unlucky I am,
I know not how to cry,
I know not how to earn,
I know not how to live,
I know not how to make
Friendship with others!

I am being exploited
Like anything.
No one is there
To help me.
No one is there to
Say, please, please
Have patience,
have tolerance,
Everything will be okay,
You will get back everything
That are yours,
That are your birth right.