Do you hear the cries of the laboured
and the neglected,
Weathered to brittle bones
and starved to desperation-
Gasps of wind and dust
that's what fills their crying tummies
Dehydration the way of life
Poverty, the language of the land
Oh for crumbs, off the dirt grounds
a drop of water!
A little shelter from the thrashing heat!
Is there any place, I could lay my heavy head;
my weary frame
Is there any hand who cares to reach out
and hold mine?
I am crying for solace-
Oh, that you smile upon me!
Turn Your merciful eyes, Oh God,
and gaze upon Your forlorn creatures
Where cries of the sufferings,
piteous in their pleading gazes
Voicelessly...painfully
call out to thee!...
Can you hear the songs of woe
singing from morn till dark?
They long for relief- the nights,
And yet, even the nights
would not spared them....
Where could they lay their skeletal frames
'cept on the hard stony grounds??
Ah! the joy of sleep-
Just a short respite! A short respite!
The touch of comfort-
I long,
a whisper of tenderness,
that's soothing balm-
on wretch frames so deprived!
The horizon which cries
to be heard ,
Focus your eyes and direction.
You, who live in lands aplenty
Awaken and open your hearts
shower a little charity and care-
Let our voices rise up
in collective prayers,
of the forgotten people
and move these wasted
lands into God's sight and vision!
MarieLee
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