Help is a simple thing

This poem was inspired by the work done by overseas charities for the disabled; and written in admiration of those who can prove, that with a tiny amount of help, they are not of small account.

 

SIMPLE THINGS

Such a simple scene:

an African village, chickens pecking in the dust.

An old man, shuffling along with a stick.

A small child, clutching his mother’s skirt,

his grandmother, slumped beside a fire.

All with one thing in common –

apart from being poor and black and of small account –

they are all blind without glasses.

Such a simple thing, a smile –  

big white teeth, big brown eyes.

It’s a wondrous sight, once a year,

when dozens and dozens queue in the sun

then grin in surprise at a sharp new world:

for the very first time, they have glasses.

Now the old man throws away his stick and his years –        

gets a job.

The old lady laughs in delight, cooks and cleans

so her daughter can work.

And the little boy can walk to school and read books.

Such a simple thing, glasses.