Poverty
Not many see it, do they?
The horizon does seem like a better place for it, doesn’t it?
The sky is blue? – tell me.
And I am a person? – please answer.
Why doesn’t anyone listen when I speak?
Is this what they say to themselves?
Are their minds a jumble, or just blank.
What drives their actions?
They watch the Ethiopians, the Indians, the Africans.
“How unfortunate,” they sigh.
“Such a sorrowful sight indeed.”
“Shall we help?”
“Of course.”
One hundred and fifty kilo’s
Moves pen over cheque.
Who is really lacking here?
A mind void of logic?
A mind of useless fantasy?
A mind of endless excuses?
Or is it the dehydrated image of a human,
Who swears he’d be able to achieve all his dreams if only he had food.
Such is the case;
Poverty occurs in the mind long before it is found externally.
Thus, is it really a “lack of possessions”, as they say?
I’ve watched two of equal wealth –
One with a twig, built a garden;
The other, made a fire that lasted forty seconds.
Yes they are both human, and yes, mistakes are made,
But isn’t it about time they were made just once
And not nine-hundred and one times?
Audio Version (To Be Added)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1983
(9th poem written in 1983 – exact date of writing unknown)