Moving boundary stones;
pasturing stolen flocks,
driving away orphan’s donkey
and thrusting the needy from the path….
The poor go about their labor of foraging food;
the wasteland provide food for their children.
Having nothing to cover,
spending nights naked in the cold
drenched by mountain rains
hugging the rocks for shelter…

Fatherless child snatched from breast
Infant seized for a debt..
Carrying the sheaves, yet hungry..
crushing olives among the terraces
treading the winepresses, yet suffer thirst..
The groans of the dying rise from the city,
the souls of the wounded cry out for help…

Rebelling against the ‘light’ ;
not knowing its ways or staying in its paths,
Daylight gone the murderer rises up..
Adulterers,thieves…by day they shut themselves in;
want nothing to do with the ‘light’…
For all of them midnight is their morning;
making friends with the terrors of Darkness !

– Sheena Tommy



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