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Pakistan Floods

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Pakistan Floods

I am ashamed

Deeply englishly embarrassed

Squirming in discomfiture at my own shortcoming.

Twenty minutes is all it took to yomp the hill to meet

My son, to greet him.

Thin greasy film of sweat

From head to toe

Evidence of the effort it took.

Proud of my transport free activity

Standing slightly breathless wanting people to notice me.

Yet thousands of miles away

In flooded lands where water drowns the driest corner

But nothing is fit to drink

The composed sallow woman

Sets her face into resigned smile

And takes the first steps of the endless journey

To fill a single head borne jar

With not enough brackish broth

To confer what passes for survival

For her children

For her dead neighbours children

For the cow

For people who know nothing of A levels


Feet on the property ladder.

But who need to survive

The here

The now.




© C Jackson 2010

No reproduction permitted in any form without the written permission of the author



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