Do You See?

half_happy__half_sad_by_demachic-d56rc7r

Do you see that poor child
with sweat running down his face
standing under the blazing sun
selling vegetables
of his empty belly.
Do you?

Do you see that rich child
with aggression on his face
under the same blazing sun
shouting at the driver for not turning on the AC
of  his abundance car.
Do you?

 *

Do you see that dark-skinned man
with sweat running all over his chest
wearing a faded ripped jeans
picking bricks to build a house
of somebody else’s dream.
Do you?

Do you see that suited man
highly infuriated
standing some feet away
fluffing the dust
of his own luxury.
Do you?

*

Do you see that frail old woman
with body almost starved to death
at a corner of the road
trying wiping her face wet with tears
of loneliness.
Do you?

Do you see that young couple
with glamour faces, holding a food bag
taking out an extra burger
throwing in the dustbin
of someone’s daily meal.
Do you?

*

Do you see that crippled boy
with painful smile on his face
moving through the crowd
trying to sell an inexpensive pen
of his illiteracy.
Do you?

Do you see that school girl
with sadness on her face
complaining to her dad
for not getting her branded colours box
of someone’s darkness.
Do you?

*

Do you see that smiling girl
with satisfaction on her face
wearing a school uniform
trying to fit her foot in brother’s shoe
of pennilessness.
Do you?

Do you see that football fan
with an unsatisfied look on his face
complaining to his dad
for not getting Nike, but Rebook shoe
of someone’s labour
Do you?

-Kritika Vashist

(July, 2014)

Another Day

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Still, there’s another day,
to unfold the perspective,
hidden beneath your grief.
To chase the sun,
of laughter, you had forgot to see.
To unravel the philosophies,
of contentment, you once buried.

Still, there’s another day,
to fill your eyes with dreams,
That went down the watery grave.
To look at the moon and stars at night,
that teaches to shine in the darkness.
To ink your hand,
with words you love,
with meaning you find.

Still, there’s another day,
to drench yourself in the rain,
making you feel young again.
To look at the mirror,
telling you to meet yourself.

Still, there’s another day,
to know that you are a human,
and you do mistakes.
To know that pain is essential,
to realize the worth of pleasure
To give yourself a chance,
and breathe in a fresh air.

Still, there’s another day,
to forgive them for eyes,
they couldn’t see.
To forgive yourself for,
your voices you couldn’t hear.

– Kritika Vashist