Third World in Third Person

What it must be like, I barely can recall
How pebbles wedged themselves
In the skins of those living low in makeshift huts
Mountain climbing garbage heaps.

I am wounded by the blunt service of time
Grimacing through each difficult decision
Allowing others to sip of my life / to derision /
Naught a possible sliding door for my dreams...

Now if you we're to travel through the dust
The ransacked tin and bamboo blocks
Third world in third person living conditions
Notice how the children still play

They know no other day or way to grow,
But like the grass through concrete cracks
Which reach for the sky and sunlight,
Life finds a way to go on, blind to all the wrong.

I hardly remember, more often than naught,
How it was - to chase the devil through the crux
Pass the allies where girls lost their wishes
And what it was like to want the strength to defend them...

A red rubber ball is rare to see among the whelp
The simple joy that bounces with livened joy
But they share it in the moments leave taking,
Lifting away the weight of their reality as lesser saints

Laughter cannot Don on a mask
It is how God brings the brilliance of hope
What it must be like...

Listening to angels laugh.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

I feel the love and compassion in this wonderful write to the less fortunate and the lost dreams or hopes of others in third world countries.How we should appreciate what we have...A splendid read and write...:)

[Butch Decatoria]

Thanks so much Sami the poet...

[Sami Khalil]

Thank you too poet...:)
You are welcome...:)