Through The Eyes Of My Son Poem by Ahamad Ilyaas Vilayathullah

It was a winter morning.
I was walking along the road.
The desert- turned city
Was unfriendly
To everybody around.

Winter and the desert,
I was worried about myself.
Can nature be
So unfriendly to man?
I kept asking myself.
Then I remembered
What mom had sent me for
Out from the comfy
Little flat I was in?
Rice, sugar, cardamom, what else?
The list was long.
The supermarket was not far away.

As I entered the shop,
There was one in black and white
Going out, rather turned out.
A friend to man it was.
A poor goat unable to walk,
It was limping
And looked tired to death.

Poor goat! I thought.
How does it survive
In this unfriendly world?
Winter, and the grassless desert.
It gave me a shock to
Think of the poor creature.

My mind was full
With nothing
But that miserable creature,
As I was walking home
With the heavy bag
Full of provisions.

The goat will surely
Die of hunger.
Can't anybody do
Anything for the poor creature?
I thought.

The news clip on the television
Brought me back
To our human world
With the terrible scenes
From the earthquake-spoiled
Bam City of Iran.

Could anybody do
Anything for them?
I let my brain freeze
In the winter cold outside.