Wandering Child

I saw a wandering child
Fraught with hunger’s woe
In a stranger’s pocket, hands limping
Between colours to paint a little hope

I saw a wandering child
Wrapped in ash clouds
Under a dangling mountain
Dried lips, clothes in shrouds
But those lips would pray
Tears dried, heart pound
road crossing, would pass away
break of dawn, O another round

I saw a wandering child
Behind the sun’s shadow
With clustered hands
Trying to sketch a regular picture of
The faded words that have grown
Out, from the black canvas

I saw a wandering child
Crouch like a vulture on a dead carcass
Masked by the wind of bullets
By the God-forsaken tribes
“Papa” she voiced and shook
With fingerless hands
Washed in blood, tears and sweat

Then I saw a wandering child
Looking at the ripples of time
A new face every second
The mirror of the child who wandered

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