Hope

Every while and then I like to (and have to) attend a medical humanity class focused on medical literature.

Last time I was asked in ten minutes to write something about hope. I wrote some crap but fixed it later:

Hope is the eye of a mother
watching her child suffer
crashing in the battle, losing his weapons
but refused to surrender

Hope is the arm of a fighter
shot by a foe
the arm, so weak and slow
sticks the flag of freedom on the sound of thunder

Hope is a child, living in hunger
with no food, no candies and no puppets
lost faith in religion and all the prophets
believes more in a dog which promised
to bring him something to eat, something to keep him alive,
as if life mattered!

Hope is the palms of a child,
joined together for a prayer
for the world, for the deprived
and for that hungry child who
with more hope, could have survived.

Hareega