Poem in response to Clean Water and Sanitation
Thirst – A Sonnet
By Ilana Arougheti
CC Image Courtesy of Matthew Peoples
O water so impure, why must I try
So hard to shake your taint of rot and ground?
You fill the air, but I’m left high and dry:
Two-thirds of me, but not one drop around.
The tang of grit pairs poorly with your flow;
I miss how easy safe quench should have been.
You should power my steps and fuel my glow;
Instead I fear you rot me from within.
When not one pipe in town runs safe and clear,
The worst of promises drown in each drink;
The worst of viral dangers rest so near,
The worst of rainbows stain each spoiled sink.
Well-wishers lack a gladder tale to tell,
And will ‘till Earth’s true lifeblood finds the well.