All is empty,
everything that lies ahead,
Everything that we
left behind,
Hopes that we grew up
with,
Promises that we got
excited for,
A humble question that
pesters,
“When is my daddy
coming back?”,
“When are we going
back to our home?”
That timid voice that
still lingers,
Around my ears,
begging for mercy,
Asking for justice,
beyond what I could deliver,
A plea so simple, yet
so poignant,
Lost hopes, shattered
dreams, innocence very crude,
Feelings of giving up,
realization of injustice,
Of that catastrophe
only hits the destitute,
Affluence stays afloat
amidst all misery,
Injustice not only by
us, but also by the very god,
Who we all summon at
times of desperation,
How do I find solace,
when the very world is unjust,
Rights that are given,
but not realized,
Structure that is so
corrupt, yet boasts of transparency,
Our very own
conscience that fails us time and again,
Our unfulfilled egos,
unspoken desires,
Turning our back to
the greatest disaster we face,
As we treat our fellow
humans, trying to escape the brutality,
Just as numbers, as
case studies that we portray in the classrooms,
At conferences,
seminars, so detached from reality,
We brag about how much
we have done,
How much we have
provided, when the reality is something else,
How can we feel their
pain when we haven’t walked in their shoes,
How can we call
ourselves rational when we shut down all the doors,
Pushing them back to
face the very torture they’re trying to escape,
Hunger, fear, disease,
abject conditions of living,
Yet we speak of justice
to the needy,
In workshops,
conventions, only to glorify our own miniscule gesture,
As the world still
suffers, as that timid voice still lingers,
It’s not enough, it
has never been.
