Poem to my new painting "Avacoucho"

Painting, "Avacoucho" by Robert Anderson, (c) Robert Anderson 2009

I wrote this poem around the landslide that happened on the 17 December 2009 at a place called, Avacucho in Peru. I want you to think when you read, how lucky we are with our superficial problems. How privileged we are to only have problems that we can solve with a little determination and fortitude, but we moan. " To have nothing to start with except your child, is all to lose".

Avacucho “Peru”

Picture a child buried in mud
Her hand protruding, soaked in blood
Her gargles silent in deathly slumber
Now multiply and think of a number?

So many disasters in media time
But hidden behind the main headline
As bigger tits are more refine
Than the children dying like swine in line

Think of a country for instance Peru
The landslides there are nothing new
You can say a prayer and take a pew
Then thank your god, the privileged few
How cruel the orb of misconstrue

They dig out the mud and bury their dead
Forgotten or lost as nothings read
Think of those children in your Childs stead?
Think of the mothers that eyes sting red
Now lost in horizons within their dread
Their dreams now nightmares in their bed
Over and over within their head
Death is a privilege, if there they’re led

Picture the child that danced with the moon
Dancing in rags with no silver spoon
As she smiled through her famine and gloom
Now buried in rubble and gone too soon
This kind of plays a different tune?

Who to help and let slip bye?
Knowing we share this very same sky
Look out the window and give out a sigh
For the children without the lullaby
For the mothers whose tears have now run dry
For the many more awaiting to die


© Robert Anderson 2010