Whilst our children <br />Become smaller than guns, <br />Elders become big <br />Circus Lions <br />Away from home. <br /> <br />Whilst the manes age <br />In the Zoos <br />That now our homelands <br />Have become, <br />Markets of leftovers, <br />Guns are taller <br />Than our children. <br /> <br />In the beggarhood <br />Of a Circus <br />That now is home, <br />The whip of the Ringmaster <br />Cracks with a snap <br />That eats through <br />The backs of our being. <br /> <br />Hands stretching <br />In a prayer <br />Of submission <br />In a beggarhood <br />Of Elders delicately <br />Performing the tightrope <br />To amuse the Gate <br />For Tips <br />That will bring home <br />Toys of death.<br /><br />David Rubadiri<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/begging-aid/
