I wonder, as I picture the sweat beading off the bronzed shoulders of my forefathers building in the Indus heat. I wonder, as I trace my (chewed) finger nail along the marble white marvel that is the seventh wonder of the world, or the sixth maybe.
How we’re dumbfounded by man made spectacles but rarely by the bodies that make them. By the hands that are calloused beyond repair but still labour. By the mothers that bear the starving pain of the world yet birth seeds that grow despite the lack of rain. By the hearts that bend in immeasurable ways and break, but never let despair seep into their bitter cracks.
I wonder, why we failed to make the list and settled for material ‘equivalents’.
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