The man who takes away
a handful of cement
in his lunchbox, each day
To smoothen the floor he sleeps on
his home, of plastic roofs and tin walls
Will never meet
the little girl
who builds castles on debris
on a hillock of bricks and mortar
inviting stray dogs as play dates
on a dust infused construction site
The couple
Eating their meal in darkness
for the fear of being evicted, today
a mere candle will give them away
in a flicker, their lives destroyed
Are indisposed
to see the man who struggles
with the loss of his family trade
unlearning the skill of his ancestors
to a blind, progressive state
The woman, who sweeps your floor
unflinchingly tolerant
protecting a pride that holds her back
from begging in her own village
Does not recognize
The newly wed bride, forced to move
from the support of a new family
onto a desecrating footpath
adorned only by a husbands faith.
These strangers
Have nothing in common
Except movement
From fear and loss
For dreams and hope
For space, freedom, solitude, respect
For their need to belong
For their choice to live...
