DO WE REALLY CARE?

See their grubby little faces, with the look of hopelessness

In their eyes

No longer able to cry, and always being pestered by crawling

Dirty flies

See their large bloated tummies, so hungry and empty with

Nothing to eat

With thin little arms and misshapen legs, standing on sore and

Painful feet

Living in their filthy mud huts, with always the smell of decay

In the air

And with small hands that are always scratching, to move the

Biting lice in the hair

Dying is their only companion, and its their only means they

Have to escape

From the harsh reality of trying to live, in this terrible sad and

Degrading state

Will there be any tomorrow, or will they just give up and lay

Down and die

And if they did who would care? Would there be a tear in

Any ones eye?

See the hungry little babies, trying to feed from their mothers

Dried up breast

And looking up at her worried face, from her gout and hard

Bony chest

With her long arms outstretched, begging for just something

To eat

And her skin all blackened and wrinkled, from the suns ever

Searing heat

Their crops will not grow, on this harsh and dry and so

Barren land

Now this once good and arable soil, now blows like the dessert

Drifting sand

The rain rarely fall here, only the glare of the constant and

Burning sun

All they can do is sit and wait, and pray that someday some

Help will come

And so we must do all we can to help those, who are a lot

Worse off than we

And try to share a little of our happiness, to someone perhaps

We shall never see

BILL ESTALL 2000

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