From afar, all you see -
Is scanty hair
Close to him, you see sunken eyes
And his lips - so dry and split,
By the face of hunger.
He is so pale and yet
His mother has given him her best
To make him survive.
It's all she can afford,
A sketchy meal a day.

His house, unlike others'
Has NO walls
Its roof, spread out leaves
And his blanket,
The wrath of the cold night.

Besides him, many pass by
Look at him, ignore and condemn.
Yet he does not choose to be
In this, a SITUATION, that life brings him
And "humanity" always blaming him;
Worst of all, disregarding him -
As though he never was human.

Have we learned to shorten our hands,
Close our eyes and deafen our ears
To the cries of this child,
A voice calling for redemption from the neighborhood
And yet all we give,
Is demise and disgust!

How cruel that is!
If not us, then who will
Put a smile on his face,
Fill his mouth with laughter and his lips
With rejoicing?
Why should we let him die
In the cold night,
Under the scanty treeshade
Amid the dangers of the street?

Who will his mother appreciate
When he dies
And we only looked on,
And down on him?
Harken to my call,
And save him this tragedy,
For this is life's demand from us.