Day after day, my labour
Has built this city layer by layer;
That’s why I am an intoxicated lover of this place.
Have I forgotten my home, my motherland?
My wife abandoned to time?
My child, my family’s inheritor?
No, I haven’t.
Every night, I wake up with the same dream,
Where the underworld train runs eternal,
I forget my destination stop in my quest for money,
I, alone like a sodium lamp post in this dream’s magic,
In one step, two steps, my son’s pleading wafts into my ears.
In my loneliness, I hear,
He says,
Father, when again will I roam around Prince’s Bazaar in your lap?
Excerpt from Lamp Post, a poem by Mohar Khan
Bangladeshi construction worker
Winner of the second prize in the second edition of the
Migrant Worker Poetry Competition on Sunday 13 Dec 2015
Bangladeshi construction worker
Winner of the second prize in the second edition of the
Migrant Worker Poetry Competition on Sunday 13 Dec 2015
