In Kalkota's Slum
by Michael Doyle

Even in the Kalkota ghetto,
You can see courage in the shadows.
Youths capture the waters of history
While finding hope for tomorrow's mystery.

Revolutionary optimists fetch the water
While knowing so little of mother or father.
Living life there in the filth of the street
Makes it hazardous to walk in bare feet.

Working early to come home late,
It's the curse of the caste consigned by fate.
The local politicians claim they are trying.
The best bet is that they're lying. 

Clean water in the slums is a pity.
It will never be the case in a place so gritty.
Talk doesn't cure poverty in this community.
It never has in all of history. 

The Kolkota slum community knows
That change comes as its children grow.
It takes courage, be it water or polio.
The children carry the message the world needs to know. 

Life here, like any community, is for the brave.
It's a struggle to live from cradle to early grave.
A new day dawns as an old day is dying,
All around these slums, the world is caught sighing. 

All around, even the children work hard.
They are given the scraps of so little to discard.
The kiln burns from morning into the night
While the laborers build and rebuild all that is in sight.

The children still dream as they work overly hard,
Learning that most of the world sees them as discard.
Still, they dare to break the world's unspoken rule.
They will make a better life by going to school. 

Man is made to do more than labor since first born,
Ending his day's labor near to the next day's morn.
The costs of freedom are most hinted at as sublime,
But the truth of this takes a little time. 

If life in the ghetto will have improvement,
Its truth must begin in its measurement.
There in freedom and pride in leaning to decide.
Yet, most of us just go along for the grand ride. 

(c) November 4, 2025   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved