THE ORPHANS OF TU-DO STREET
by Enrique B. del Rosario © 1973

I heard the screams above the blood-fire street
Echo sickly through diseased vestibules.

The Reaper gathers as he ridicules
The peddlers of flesh, the buyers of meat.

Tonight the Reaper walks with silent feet
To visit orphans who sleep in gutters.

Near refuse cans. They waken and utter
Nothing, as if they knew their life's complete.

I, who with tears, sanctify suffering
Of all the world's guiltless morbid infants
Who will die of prayers that bring not bread,
Give back to you your meager offering.
Nor clothes nor money will fulfill their wants,
For cold and hunger bother not the dead.