The Dusty Foot Soldier.

I stood their, watching the child in my half torn sneakers and pair of shorts…looking at where I once was.

The Dusty Foot soldier…
How more poetic should one be?

He kicks the dust into the air
Thats all he can do as he awaits his mother
Its holiday and he’s happy to be home
But he is wearing the school uniform
All he has for clothes is what little his mother spent
On school uniform
He stares at me
The sole of the shoe can tell all the walking he has done
And all the walking he’s about to do
There’s no misery in his eyes
The mother took him for a visit
A visit to the bank I guess
But its better, its better
Maybe he thought they were picking money
But the mother stands there in confusion
Unlike people who are quick to beat the long queues
She slowly retreats
How much is there on the account
Is there any more money
Was the account closed?
The only time she checks her ATM is when school
Is about to start
School is two weeks away though
So what brought her and
The Dusty foot soldier to the ATM
Did someone promise them money
He squats
He’s tired, and resting for the next trek
Finally he comes
Its been hours standing
The guard had just told them
If they weren’t here to withdraw anything
Maybe they should leave
He walks over to the ATM
He withdraws
He hands over the cash
The dusty foot soldier looks on
The joy on his mother’s face
Maybe he will make it to school this semester
He stands and shakes the man’s hands
She’s elated she almost fell down kneeling
From the exhaustion, and the waiting
She grabs her Dusty foot soldier
And they begin their dusty footed trek

The Dusty Footed Soldier…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s