WaterAid by, Liz O’Shea

29/7/2022

Swollen belly, sticky eyes
And flies, flies, flies
And his eyes
Hold no surprise
That we watch him suffer before he dies.

Is this a child of my God
My HMV, McDonald’s, Ikea
Have I got room for both my cars God
My I’m alright Jack, get on your bike God
My let’s not drink tap water it’s not pure enough God.

How can you, how can we, how can I
Watch him die.......
But we do.

Kim Favors

29/7/2022 08:03:21 am

Disturbing. I mean it as a compliment.

Rosie Douglas

29/7/2022 11:41:42 am

I love this poem, even though it is so sad - and so true. Well done Liz.

Stephen Goodlad

29/7/2022 06:01:55 pm

You stir a guilty conscience in me. Putting this is a poetic way, it sounds like a Geldof rant and he made an impression as should this.

Sue Clayton

30/7/2022 07:00:52 am

Images of all those starving refugees, lacking food and water, played through my mind as I read your words. We sometimes need a reminder of how lucky some of us are. Your poem did this, Liz.

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WaterAid by, Liz O’Shea

Poetry

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