A Peasant

A Peasant long poem

Photo by Nagarjun 

A peasant
They called me a peasant
Because I go to bed hungry
Not just one night
Not two nights
Not Three nights
But night after night after night

They called me a peasant
Because I seek food
From the scrap heap
Rummage what you called garbage

They called me a peasant
Because my children
Are not like yours

Neighbors
Who eat and feed the dogs
With the scraps and leftovers
Because the scraps and leftovers are their food

They called me a peasant
Because my water does not flow from a tap
But from springs
And Tanks
And wells
And Ponds
Carrying it home in buckets and pans
On my head

They called me a peasant
Because my parents
Begged coins at the street corner
At the stop lights
At the supermarkets
At the markets

They called me a peasant
Because
I feel no remorse
To visit the meat market
And beg scarps of meat
Beef scraps
Chicken scraps
Pork fat
And fish head

This will be protein
For my family tonight

Go ahead called me a peasant

If you can feel comfortable to call me a peasant
But do nothing to rescue me
From my poverty

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2 Comments on "A Peasant"

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Preeti
Member

A reality of thousands of farmers in India…Sad and moving…

Akhtar Jawad
Member

A heart touching poem!
Jis khet se dahqan ko moessar na ho roti,
Us khet ke har khoosha-e-gandum ko jala do
(Dr. Muhammad Iqbal)

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