30 Silvers of the Vice Chancer

Down, by the river sucked dry by greed
Sat a few thousands in calm silence of truth,
Covered in the fog of hunger and thirst,
Smeared with the dirt of scorn, ignored.

One of them, seventeen and hungry
Glimpsed her mom faintly as she fainted.
Another shed a tear drop for his dreams
Of a just tomorrow- a student's dream in vain?

Just then came a van of glaring khakis,
Counting what was just delivered in bundles.
Marching, they swished latis and last,
On hungry little girls and thirsty little boys.

The sun smiled down on their wishes,
Of good food and enough water,
Of clean clothes and some freedom.
Latis watched as the Vice* Chancer** passed by.

As hunger climbed the hills that surrounded,
They dropped one by one like kites in gale.
'You', said the Vice one 'are at fault for your state'.
Helpless, hopeless, the little ones fell to hunger.

To the slaughterhouse were they led.
Silent like lambs, lamed too soon by life,
Walked they, the road of shame  and defeat,
While the Vice one grinned victorious and counted his 30 silvers!

 

*evil
**opportunist and self-seeker