one more penny taken from those who are weaker and fragile
a larger space by taking away the only clod of earth of a poor pilgrim in migration
more certainty at the expense of those who are in unstable balance
is this progress?
is this development?
no!
this is what we are
not
an answar denied only to mortifie those who wait
a rope around the neck as a medal to those who are weak and fragile
a little of air conditioned for who live in the abandoned in the peripheries
is this progress?
is this development?
no!
this is what we are
not
a scratch on the soul of those who have faith and hope
a slap in the face to those who smile and with confidence wait
a wrongfoot on the finish line
is this progress?
is this development?
no!
this is what we are
not
no thanks, this is not our world ,
no thanks, this is not our idea of progress
we belong to the mud of the fields
and we welcome those who have patience to listen to our poor and simple song
a song of fire and wind
a song of labour and celebration
a song of joy for the hard worked crop
for the sacred harvest
yes,
this is what we are
this is our dream of development
this the progress we aim to
always on the move, always in migration
with arms outstretched to any new travelling companion
and so be it
Marco Bo
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