The Sinking Terrain

By Lynn Ockersz

On ‘How the other Half Dies’,

We have the evidence of our eyes;

The village wanted a bridge over the river,

But it was gifted with a ferry disaster,

Which sent many a bright, budding life,

Into a watery grave, cavernous in contour,

Thanks to syrupy pledges undelivered;

But in faraway, sprawling concrete jungles,

Where high-rises by the day haughtily surface,

The moral is clear and undisputable;

The city shines while the village withers,

‘Kolombata Kiri, Apate Kekiri’,

Sums-up the condition perennial.