Still They Smile

They greet me every morning
when I step out for my walk;
those tiny flowers in the grass
of the little playfield nearby.
So small that you’d miss them,
if you didn’t look down keenly.
So tiny, still they smile!

So humble that they can’t catch anyone’s eye;
no one would give them a place of honor
in their flower gardens or drawing rooms
or among the decorative creepers and plants
around their pompous houses.
So lowly, they are ignored and insulted by all;
Still they smile!

Their life span is shorter than half a day;
they will be scorched to death
by the fiery sun before noon.
Or, they will be trampled and crushed
by the playing feet of uncaring hearts.
They will vanish unloved and unhonoured;
Still they smile!

So many little ones born in lowly surrounds

humble souls in one room mud huts

condemned to live without worldly comforts

destined to sleep with hunger in their intestines

with no hopes of a better tomorrow

What do they have that can earn them any dignity?

Still they smile!

By Xavier Bage

Nov 13, 2015