When Is The Dawn? Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

I walked miles after miles on these dusty roads,
Wearing comfortable shoes to protect my sore feet,
This place is an example how a country,
Should not be managed and messed up.
This area exemplifies to prove the poverty,
That is churned out from corruption.
Every level of this country is well corrupted,
Politicians, judiciary, administrative and common men,
Who have some power to extract few dollars and cents.
Most men look sickly, but the women look all right,
Terribly skeletal human can be found here,
Walking, running and pedaling for money.
Cute broad eyes that look at me piercingly,
Poking my inability to talk about their miseries,
Half eaten stomach can't be filled with water,
Even the water is scarce; don't ask for clean water,
The corporation sends the water of various smells,
No program can be watched continuously,
As there is power interruption every other hour,
I have many yellow singlets after putting,
The white materials in the washing machine,
The air is humid or scorching hot in summer,
Very cold and shivering in winter,
The rivers run knee deep in the rainy season,
On the roads, collecting the rubbish and then float,
I have seen mosques everywhere and hear their prayers,
One after another nonstop for ten minutes or more,
Sometimes I thank the power interruption,
Why we have to reassure that Almighty is great,
Every five hours, but the Almighty has not been kind,
To these poor souls who are wearing dirty clothes,
Kneel down on the floor to worship Him for love,
Almighty has bestowed them with lots of love,
So they have created 160 million people so far,
When private sector flourishes,
The public sector is in a filthy state,
Railways, Roads and battered buses,
Filled with people, three hours to catch a bus,
To work and another three hours to go back,
People are waiting day and night,
They are waiting everywhere with a hope,
They are waiting for the fresh dawn,
That brings them normal life and security.