The Village,
No word of Green Exists,
Just the Naked Hills.
And the Barren Earth. The Low Voltage Bulbs Wink
In the Night.
No Toilets, no Baths
Just the Open Space.
Though there are Shops,
Selling Packets,
Packets of Paradise!
Every Nights and Every day
Is a living Hell,
For the Ladies.
More Tears and Snivels,
From the Open Bellied
Little ones.
The Lake,
Which reflected the Full Moon,
Mirror only a Coin.
Shrunken, Sunken Shardes,
Of Earth Everywhere.
In a corner,
A Palm Tree,
Pregnant with Orange Berries Smile.
IS it Gloating?
Mocking at me.
...
I Wonder,
As I Travel Back,
To the Concrete Jungle.
I Sigh! Pondering,
As I go Nigh,
The City Limit.
I am glad to come back
And See, a Patch of Green,
Though Smogged.
A piece of Satisfaction
Fills my Heart,
And I go on....
My Village Read more
~ Sheera Betnag in Detroit, MI, USA.February, 2000
