“I read the news today… oh boy!”
Just for the tiniest of seconds
The sky he spied
He thought it was blue
The mesh with pigeon drooping
Blurred with grey turned black
Yielded little that was true
That glance was all he could afford
Though his heart ached for more
Any longer and he knew for sure
The heavy hand of Retribution would follow
Sometimes stinging sometime flinging
A body many times broken only to endure
So he hunched over his little orb
Needle in hand not yet ten
Puncturing and pulling thread
Through fabric shimmering bright
Tracing designs made for angels fair
Through fourteen hours for some water and bread
That little bit of blue sky
Secretly stolen under the demon’s eye
Brought a lump to the boy’s throat
And a tear to his eyes that he dared not shed
Remembering the sights and sounds of his village grounds
As he grazed the ever hungry goat
He was hungry here he was hungry there
Without a mother and father to call his own
Only a granny who for money gave him away
Happiness he knew nothing of only gnawing fear
Knowing well that if his fingers didn’t work fast enough
Like the boy that died he too from the fan would sway
He spied the blue sky again
This time he didn’t glance away
There were kind smiling faces and gentle hands
Though the bench he sat on was cold and hard
All would be well he would never have to go back they said
Not knowing how to smile he looked at his hands still full of fabric strands
© jyotikumarsarma
19042011
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