Poem-Motherland (4)--15Nov1996

                               MOTHERLAND (4)

God, what a life, the life of the disabl'd !

'Tis not enough having to contend with nature :

Around them so many obstacles be assembl'd :

To the uncaring daily do they fall as pasture.

How many times have I seen with agony

A poor blind fellow in the bus groping :

Others budge not for some reason flimsy :

On to their seats always they be holding.

Says the sign : "Reserved for the disabled,"

But, the ignorant ones could not be troubl'd :

Promptly would they occupy that very seat :

They couldn't let go a place so handy and neat.

Still more might go on groping the poor disabl'd :

'Pon the reserv'd seat be the usurper settl'd.

Motherland, finally when would they learn :

After compassion when would they yearn !

Lo ! Hath just been administer'd, in a terrific deed,

Some resounding indictment of the unfeeling throng :

A disabl'd lady, showing how others be wrong,

Ced'd her seat to someone else in greater need.

To thee, kind young lady, be sung this chant :

Thou show'd how, of feelings, others be in want;

Though thou were thyself in need of comfort,

Thou prov'd to be an example of the best sort.

Here must we thunder to those that be ignorant :

For God's sake, leave yon bloody seat vacant !

Now be the time to give a chance to the disabl'd :

Tomorrow, with disabilities YE might be riddl'd !

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15 November 1996