Grading the poor

Grading the poor

 

Grading the poor
At the bottom or on the floor
Satisfies one’s might
Reaches the right.
 
It is distressing to grade a human
Living in ruins
Covered with no roof but walls
And another, neither roof nor walls.
 
Where do you end one never knows
One receives no alms and
Nothing to the world he owes.
Lives the day with a loaf of bread with no qualms
 
The other sold his poverty never ever aware
He was cared with flair
And now has a roof over his head
With no dearth of bread.
 
It is not my trade to grade the poor
At the bottom or on the floor.
We are not messiahs,
Returning to judge all creations. 

The Disease

The Disease

Somewhere in the East
Heard a strange disease,
Indisposed men, women and children
In numbers never heard.
 
All began in a megacity
People cautious and many feared.
But plagues have come and gone.
This too would end, the optimist prophesied. 
 
The disease soon spread
There was fear everywhere
Nothing will prevent and nothing will cure,
Affirmed doomsayers.
 
The rich, the poor, the urban, the rural
The developed, the underdeveloped
The privileged and not so privileged
All wait with bated breath.
 
From East to West, North to South
Europe and the Americas and Asia
The pandemic spread like an octopus,
Tentacles greedy to grasp.
 
Or is it to purge the world
Of all its sins,
Selfishness and complexes
And make it a better place to live.