India

In her old-young eyes
There is no joy, no light, no hope.
Silent, small hands clasped,
Beside the simple mound she kneels.
Down from those eyes,
Dark pools of light and alternating shade,
Descends the bitter shower,
The life-blood from her over-charged heart.
So young…
Yet in those luminous lakes
The wisdom of her people burns —
Wisdom that always was.
So young…
She kneels beside the simple mound.
Around her and above
The rainless shimmer
Scorches the parched earth.
Thin shoulders tremble,
Her small, wise heart beats against
Her thin breast;
Bitter-sweet, from laden eyes,
Heavy with her people's sorrow,
Descends the bitter stream.
Camera on shoulder
The opulence of the West, unmoved, untouched looks on.
Around him and above
Heat heavy
Heat killing
Parched earth.
No stir, all life has long since passed
And left no trace
Save bleached bones
And emptiness
And mounds of lifeless earth
Watered by tears.
Camera to shaded eye.
A moment only,
Then thick tyres stir up the heavy lifeless earth.
All is silence…
No bird sings, nor low of cow is heard.
Thin, wise eyed,
Kneeling beside the mound of desolate earth,
So young…
The strangled sobs, torn from her thin breast,
Alone break the silence
Of Death.


October dee

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