D.I.S.A. CAMPAIGN
ECUADOR
- POETRY -

Ada Medina
Allyn Caravaglia
Anjana Basu
Annette Marie Hyder
Brian d'Arcy
César M. Morales
Claude Chuzel
Craig MacFarlane
Debjani Chatterjee
Durlabh Singh
Evelyn Cortez-Davis
Gene Keller
Gino D'Artali
Job Degenaar
Liza Di Georgina
Michaela A. Gabriel
Susan V. d'Artali
Tamara Lai
Usha Kishore
Zaida Lysle



Click here for the art

Beasts of Burden
© Usha Kishore - India-UK

The land is parched and dry -
We are beasts of burden -
We are yoked to father's plough-
All day, we till the land -

There is no water here, our
tears are dry - our bodies
burn in the sweltering heat -
All day, we till the land -

Our mates fly kites, they play
hide and seek; they laugh -
Our laughter is smothered by the air -
All day, we till the land -

Perhaps, angels will come our way -
Perhaps, they will take us away -
Perhaps, laughter will come back in tears -
All day, we till the land -


This poem is based on child labour in India. Recently, the plight of children, who were used as oxen by poverty-ridden farmers in Andhra Pradesh (South India) was brought to World attention by the media.

___________________________________________________

The Children

I walk towards the big shop with glittering glass-windows;
Saris fly out as rainbow parrots, they dance like peacocks
with gold-drenched feathers

Outside, a tiny girl stands with her tinier brother,
perched on her hips; they extend their hands and
search my soul with sunken eyes - they are not
children, they are miniature old people -
Their skins are papery, bones poke out of their bodies;
Rags hang from them - the girl touches my toes, her
stick hands tremble as she points to her stomach;
The little baby licks his tears; I ignore them and
walk into the shop

From among the lights, from among the enchanting
sari-birds, flapping their wings; from the glittering
glass windows, I look out - there they are!
She is touching toes again!
The baby's mouth is wide open in a scream -
Now, she sits down on the pavement, her brother
in one hand, her head in the other - the saris in my
arms, knot themselves into an albatross and strangle me

I come out laden with bags, I open my purse and pull
out a coin or two; my eyes search for the tiny girl and
her tinier brother - they are not there!
They have melted into the darkness -
Somewhere in my heart, a great weight falls -
Somewhere in my ears, a baby cries

Sari- Indian outfit
Touching toes - a sign of respect in India. The street children touch the toes of passers by and beg for money.

This poem is based on the street children in India, who beg for a living.

© Usha Kishore - India-UK