They died a slow, unnatural death

By Anita Thomas

Where the streams flow,

Where the lamps glow

Where the lands gloat,

When the flowers bloat.

 

 Where the top of the mound,

Amuse with the hollow sound

Where at the end of the day,

They all sit to eat and pray.

 

Where the lips are rough,

As the food is not enough

Where the bellies are rounded,

As the skills are bounded.

 

They, came from there

With hopes high, but hands bare

They, came from there

Leaving their fields and those who care.

 

Employment is all they came for

Hand to mouth was what they asked for

Name they thought wouldn’t matter

Life now, they thought wouldn’t shatter.

Urban was their destination,

Hard work was their determination

New skills were to be learnt,

Much more income was to be earned.

 

While the elders worked to build

Tall towers and corporate guild

The little ones sat crying aside,

Waiting for their mothers to come beside.

 

 They worked whole day,

No time to eat together or pray.

Soon the elders learnt to be busy,

Soon their children learnt not to be fussy.

 

They travelled from one to the other end,

Constructing buildings was never to end.

Living in shanties had become a habit,

Wherever they could find a job, they had to grab it.

 

They couldn’t go back to starve and die,

It was just better to share a small pie.

They lived each day at a time,

Every minute counted in earning a dime.

 

 

The elders grew older,

The children grew older.

Inhaling dust and losing breath,

They died a slow, unnatural death.

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