Poem by Lily Swarn
Laboured Walks
There are walks
And then there are strolls
Sometimes it’s a romp on tarmac boulevards
Or a giddy gambolling of mountain goats on cliffs
It could be a pensive meandering through oak tree glens
Or a dreamy skipping besides the sky blue lake
Shady avenues may invite an arm in arm ambling of hearts
Or a dreary plodding through swampy bogs
But this en masse marching of bewildered beings
Is the homeward journey of hungry stomachs
Turned away by life on a retreat for long
They say it’s a virus with a feminine name
“Go back to your villages “, they were told
“We have no more work for labourers now “
“I will eat rice with salt or even flour Sahib
But there’s no bus or train to
Take me back on country roads “
That “take me home to the place I belong “
Copyright Lily Swarn 28.3.2020
