Suffer Little Children

SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN

Thin, drawn, scrawn, hunkered down. Dirt
nailed hand clutching a paper brown, bag.
Booze, glues, solvent abuse solace, within.
Glaze eyed, inactive, nursing pain.

Dancing, at the intersection, rattling tin
A ragged waif with wide grin, begs.
Cents, rands, your loose change, for bread?
Or brown bag bottled oblivion?

Scruff grabbed, baton beaten brat,
kicked, caught, caged and spat, upon.
Left to rot, unrepresented, forgotten.
Released at length from the hell of cell,
to the heat of street,
and gang raped,
lies in the gutter, snot nosed, tear faced,
in utter grief.

Bag snatching bold, fast and
gone.
Shoulder barging requisition of a
mobile phone.
A knot of intimidation on the corner
filling the pavement with malevolence
and good folk, eyes averted, cross the road,
avoiding confrontation.

Sandy Wetton Cape Town, South Africa February 2003