The Poor Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

I have my hope alive
These rainy days for the sky
To behave well;
To pour its blessing
Upon the poor who in
Tiny hamlets dwell;

I hold the belief
That who does good
Never have to see bad days;
His family flourishes
And go on rising to the sky
Who for His greatness prays;

And our poor have never
Lose faith on Him,
Wish no harm to none;
Through penury and hunger
They smile and loss of
Wealth they do not mourn;

How long can He witness
The dance of sorrow
Upon their dejected fates;
He has a heart too
And to the realm of wealth
He would open the gates;

My poor do serve Him
With free mind and heart
And happiness they get manifold;
Goodness and simplicity
Are earned through acts
And can’t be bought or sold.