The boys stare,
with sunken, sullen eyes
as I bring the food for the day.

With heads shaved and rags hanging
from shoulders, they are standstill.

Unevenly painted
orphanage walls gaze at the boys
as they sit despairingly,
two per each hand-me-down bed.

Kindness is what they need.

I cradle a baby boy with my left arm
and give a toddler milk,
with my right.

Another child
sits in his wooden crib, with eyes closed
and his hand stuffed in his mouth.
He is either sick or starving.

Love is all they want.

How I wish I could mother them all,
but I cannot.

Life is all they have.