THE DROUGHT

Often in times not so good,

feeling hungry with lack of food.
A child clinging to its mother,
with a hope to end this rather.

Semi-clad woman, skinny and weak,
begs for food, head bowed and meek.
A frail mother, her clothes tattered,
with no roof her hopes shattered.

Tragic it is the advances of men,
she compromised for meagre gain.
Child stopped crying - her tears rolled,
in a lame society the story unfold.

Many a mother with their silent sobs,
weeps lifelong, while the demon robs.
These dark nights became darker still,
being numb she could no longer feel.

The demons came in every night,
and killed her hunger without a fight.
She bled in tears but fed her child,
thus broken to bits a mother so mild.


Prasenjit©1997-2011