Sanjay Karmakar Poet Free verse

My Loving Lit

It was just impossible for me to make a protest
No, no, I did not protest, no, I didn't!  When
my seven-year-old daughter came and told me
she rushed to me, yearns in heartbreak
full of her expects as she knows that
her father cannot bear such a thing;
protesting, so.
Anxiously said, daddy, look at, look at these little kids
deployed and carrying the loads of waste articles
ringing veils; in poetry, I forced to look after their deeds
kids from three years to six years
Nutritionally deficient,
What a tragedy! They are pulling these in a lot of pain
and giving their dad and
their father is loading them into a rickshaw van.
The stream flowed with two eyes but
I did not protest
No, I didn't.
Rather I told her that they would sell them and get some money
with that penny will get something to eat;
I don't know my loving lit
what she thought and
leave
it.

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