Gratitude

By Fathima Baisin

He tried hard to smile,

but his eyes deceived him.

Tears rolled down his charred cheeks

while his lips struggled to curve down,

all against his will.

His trembling hand endeavoured to reach his mouth

while it's companion was kept busy

rubbing the precious bits of rice

off his muddy rags.

For they sleep hungry,

not knowing the feeling of a full stomach,

not knowing that people do reject food when their tummies are full,

not knowing there are choices.

And yet,

all they know is but gratitude

for whatever keeps them alive...

thankful for the sun, the wind, the rain, the moon

and the people who put their leftovers in the trash

instead of the ditch.

By Fathima Baisin