Swinging Cradles

Living, dying, just little brown bodies

Tossed out like burnt or old uneaten chappati bread

For all kinds of hungry animals including human

Who prey upon the defenseless and the unwanted

Children of a lesser god? Or is it lesser parents?

Products of rape, of despair, or of illicit love

Of the poorest, the richest and the middle damned

But Children none the less, human children

Pakistani children who out of no fault of their own

Happened to be born, out of wedlock, religion, rage

Who have little chance but to find a cradle behind wire mesh

A protected sanctuary program for discarded babies who

Hope to be found and be sent to homes where

They can fill the gap of happiness for the childless

The couples who can appreciate the value of such a gift

And who truly know the love of god and his ninety-nine names.






Note: This poem is dedicated to Bilquis Edhi and Karachi's "Khazana-I-Atfal" (Babies
Nest). Edhi has installed cradles surrounded by protective wire mesh outside social centers
in Pakistan where people who have "unwanted" babies are encouraged to leave them in
safety and "no questions asked". A very special thanks to Jan Khaskhely for writing about
this program and bringing it to my attention. RHS.