Treasure Island

Babatunde Aremu


Wheel-Barrow Pusher


Born into a peasant family
Down in the remotest village
There his placental is buried
Deep down inside the peasant land
Papa offers nothing to him
Mama struggles to feed him
His burden becomes burdensome
He was pushed to the streets
To push for his life

He despairs to the city
And allied with scores of pushers
He sleeps in the open cold
First to wake up at dawn
So as to meet with unknown clients
His siesta is observed in the hollow
Of the steel rough wheelbarrow
Beneath the intensed tropical sun

Life goes on, he says
Fagries of life is incosequential
Rain or shine he doggedly pushes on
Hoping to return home one day rich
To warm embrace of his kindred
As pushes daily his strength wanes
He gazes at new entrants to the trade
He recalls his days of apprenticeship
He took stock and wonderedwhile
The world does pay attention
To the world of the peasnts
Everyone seems to have forgotten
Their origin, the peasantry!

Submitted: Friday, April 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, April 26, 2013

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