Guatemalan Orphan

Little Guatemalan child on the floor In the heat, shaded by the shop door, Alone and dirty Clothed in filthy rags, Holding a little brother She’s wrapped him in torn bags Begging for any money, She is in desperate need, Not eaten in days, Little baby brother still bleeds, In a unknown language, She pulls on the tourists, But they give to only one child, To the child who seems the poorest, So she continues sniffing the glue Baby Bro is contaminated too It eases the pain and hunger It’s the thing she’s knows to do, When later the heat resides The orange Sun will set, And the orphans gather together, Collect old rubbish and tourist cigarettes, And when the men drive by late night, And offer them pathetic lose change, For her innocence aged 9, A most excruciatingly unfair exchange She grows up knowing this life Is the only life she’ll identify, Unless someone will lend a physical hand And wipe the tears from her eyes And comfort and hold her so close, Let her know there is love out there, Get her life back together, Will you go and show you care? N.B. I visited Guatemala in 2004 with my church. We helped volunteer to build an orphanage. This is based on the stories we heard...Words cannot explain the situation there.