A Haitian Woman’s Tears

Along the shores of Lake Azuei,
Little children laugh and play gleefully.
Distended bellies, and mated orange hair,
Vivid signs of malnutrition there.

Half-starved villagers strive to survive,
With little food or drink, to keep them alive.
Squatters they are, in their thatch-roofed huts,
Neither water to drink, nor food in their guts.

Sitting quietly, a nursing mother weeps,
A lifeless child at her breast, one crying at her feet
Emaciated, gaunt, aged beyond her years,
Doomed to a continual, life of tears.

Life's toll on her body, insidiously derides,
No nourishment for her child, can it provide.
Her shriveled-up breasts, portend the way,
The infant will die, within a day.

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