Some NGOs we miss

(open your society and say "ahhh")

Might at the end of the tunnel

Some thirty years
the world aglow
flesh markets free
like driven snow
The sands, the plains
The mountains high
with blood well stained,
lone children’s cries
rising vainly from the chasm
there fearless stand
physicians for fascism.

Wearing smocks,
sporting masks,
lecturing workers
and unemployed
how to keep
their fragile health
from diminishing
Gates’ great wealth.

in print, on screen
join their hands
with smiles unseen
sans frontieres
like those doctors
overlooking starving screams
bending over
for vaseline.

While jobless, homeless
East and West
joined by the hungry
would protest,
devote and servile
songs are played
by those still officed
home and paid.

Until they too
no longer dumb
Penury finds
every one,
Too late they’ll wonder,
Their brains immune
from marching
to mendacious medical tunes.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..