Like clay people
we walk the earth
stark and barren
seeing with no eyes
Bankrupt beggars
swarm the cities
scratching the soil
their fingers hungry
I dance deaf and dumb
like the next, alone
a wandering orphan
in search of its mother
Although I know the wise one
I too must collect bottles
off the streets
day in and day out
Like fishes washed
upon the shore
we frantically flap
longing for the ocean
half alive with nothing more
than a buried dream
and a cloudy hope
inside our hungry hearts.

– Suchaturi Birchall.


Return to the April 1999 index page

Return to the Top