Hunger on his plate.
Wretched hope on his face.
A worst sufferer; a lone survivor!
A plateful of urban dust of the streets.
A pair of numb eyes with a dull stare.
He does not fear anymore to die.
He has lived a hundred deaths...
As hunger kills him every single day.
The crowd and the celebrations many.
Festivity in their minds; far from agony.
Not a single passerby cares to drop him
A packet of food or some penny.
His soul pours out a desperate cry;
Silenced by a wave of bitter truth;
A truth that carry his fate,
Too dreadful to be a lie.
Festivals come and go,
Different religions, different cultures,
Different practices, different tastes.
He but knows no religion nor practices.
He is neither a believer nor a disbeliever.
He is but a worshipper of the one truth.
He but follows only one religion;
The religion of humanity!
Copyright Shaheen Akhtar.
Day 09, Theme - Festivals.