I look at those tall concrete jungles;
some big, some large, and some just larger.
Oh God! Where do I find a tiled roof for my shelter?
I look at those monstrous creatures that can’t fly,
brawling amongst themselves for a bucket of water.
Oh God! Why am I too weak to fight for a drop to quench my thirst?
I look at those big round drums that hang on to some giant metallic towers,
excreting a weird buzz that trembles my feathers.
Oh God! Why don’t I have the privilege to fly like my grandparents, in those years?
I look at those monsters that can’t fly,
eat in packets, processed and refined.
Oh God! Where do I search to get some grains to dine?
My mother died, father died;
Brother, sister and friends expired.
But, somewhere, somehow, a sparrow like me survived,
With no water left in my puny body,
to even perspire at the Sun God’s fury;
With no energy left in my half-dead remains,
to endure without my food- the husk of those grains.
But, somewhere, somehow, a sparrow like me is suffering,
Starved and threatened, and only to die are we living.