House of the poor by Mzi Mahola

When I was a little boy
I never questioned why
A solitary path
Led from a poor man’s hut.

Why it zigzagged
Like the trail of a wounded beast.

Now that I’m a burdened man
I know why the rich are troubled
When we grumble.

http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poet/item/5383/10/Mzi-Mahola