Visiting The Orphanage Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Abandoned down a village well,
The two year old, Suppumalee
Has come to learn some basic words,
Pic cit, and Ida and Hari

Neela, the oldest shakes his head,
Wary, for not all men are friends
They may pretend to care but can
Abuse your trust for other ends

Sama is six years old and lame
A landmine took away a limb
But she can hop and she’s alive
And oh the joy to see her swim!

Raja is blind. A single shot
Robbed him of sight. Such cruelty
In war zones is the common lot
He nods, in mute servility.

A mother killed by drought or gun
The left ear eaten from the head
By prowling leopard, rescued now
The six-week old is bottle fed

We all lose parents, late or soon
Are orphaned, every mother’s son
But seldom by the mindless act
Of terrorist or poacher’s gun

The tourists flock to see the herd
A happy ending’s worth the cost
Forgetting for a moment that
For one that’s saved, a hundred’s lost.

Eager to reach the orphanage
We blank the beggars of the place
The withered flea-infested sage
The cripple’s dumb, accusing face.