The river will meander soon,
from one path to another.
Bring out the old soft earth,
drown a different one on the other.
Lives submerged on one hand,
and given birth to another.
A balance of good and bad,
a greenery that we once had.
With the crops the hope dies,
echoing the sky with farmers’ cries
Some die while others go on,
with hope in heart from night till morn.
The day is yet to come,
when in summer time it will rain!
The huge money they piled as treasure,
will give back to the poor again!
Before you throw this paper in a heap,
remember there are promises to keep.
We have seen poverty in pen & paper,
and forgot, we could have made the world,…
just a little better…
- Prasenjit Das © 97-99
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