Suffer ye the little children

Small crystals scattered in the streets of Khayelitsha
the beautiful jewels in the net of Indra,
a prism refracting the beam once just white
incandescent fragments of coloured light.
But now in the pale dusk their skins look grey and dull
as they huddle in doorways, their hungry eyes wide in the skull,
belying how clear their laughter could ring
and the abundant joy, smiles on their faces should bring.

But because where nations deal in greed and hate
and big corporates in futures and Forex trade,
uncaring where their bloated shadows fall
scarcity grows like mold on a damp wall,
to suffocate in despair, those of whom said He:
"Whatsoever onto them is done, just so you do onto Me".

Know this, not only for their sake,
together their light our nation's rainbow make.