THE CHILD IN TORN SLIPPERS

A lone child in slippers torn,

 Parched lips puckered, trying to hide an incipient moan

Walks on the street war ravaged

 In his frail arms carrying his baggage

Plodding towards a destination unknown.

Dizzy and swirling

 Thousand dark thoughts unfurling

Recollecting the qualities sterling

Of his nine year old brother who was hit

And he, the one who was older, was also not without grit

 And yes bolder, was spared –why?

 He let out a sigh.

 The vulture sitting atop a telephone wire put a brake to its flight

Absolutely traumatised by the poor eleven year old’s plight.

Two fat tears tumbled down its face.

With no apology, unaware of the vulture’s remorse  

 The modern aerial technology undeterred, followed its everyday   course.

 Continued to show its superior might

Onward carrying its fight

 Of killing children of every size

 Decapitating with weapons precise

Now the vulture’s body shook with tears at this inhuman exultation

At the killing and maiming and vile decapitation.

The lone child in slippers torn, walked on sans smile, sans brother, sans mother.

His father he had lost in the last air strike.

 To an unknown destination he walked –

 To wait for joining his family

  In the next air strike.

Onward walked the child clutching a secret dream close to his heart

He knew, of his family he would soon be a part.

His parched lips puckered into a smile.

 No longer tired, he could walk another mile.

 From the telephone wire, the vulture watched beguiled.