Today's poem, written more than ten years ago, and the figure has not changed much in that time, is a poem to turn your thoughts to those children born to die, children who have no future and die of hunger in a world of plenty.
EIGHTEEN HUNGRY CHILDREN.
Eighteen hungry children die
every minute of every day
eighteen of tomorrow’s people
cruelly thrown away.
When pandering to a fashion
gratifying our greed,
think, theirs is no desire
but a basic need.
Envisage a familiar face
a child that calls your name,
try to be the parent
try to place the blame.
Eighteen hungry children die
every minute of every day,
eighteen little faces
that never learnt to play.
Walk past your local school
listen to the shrill,
stand and count to sixty
imagine hunger start to kill.
Fingers must be pointed
at decisions made on high,
questions must be asked
loudly asked by you and I.
Eighteen hungry children die
every minute of every day,
eighteen precious lives
the claws of hunger slay.
WHY?
