The Daily Labourer

Holding the unborn 

Offspring in the womb, 

She covers 

Unending distance.

Lost vermilion, 

Paltry money 

Make her feeble, 

Still she marches. 

Morning starts its work

Evening fades its serenity, 

Night renders its uncertainty. 

But

She carries 

The gift of God. 

Quaffing the water 

And 

Guzzling the poorest food, 

She looks 

At the unending path.

'You have 

To reach your village, 

You have 

To submit yourself 

To your kith and kin 

For pertinent action, 

You have 

To save your child, 

She yells silently 

To her helplessness'. 

Sun takes test 

For patience,

Rain takes test 

For pain, 

Night takes test 

For modesty. 

Yes, everyday 

She tries to win, 

Everyday she tries 

To maintain her chastity, 

Every day she marches

And 

The unborn baby 

Kicks from belly to say, 

'Oh! My mother, 

The daily labourer, 

Please forgive me, 

I am 

Giving you much pain, 

I am 

Giving you much pain, 

But I do pray 

To Almighty 

For your successful journey 

To your motherland, 

I do pray for you'.