|
The Witness Remains
Flarebombs bloom on the dark sky.
A child claps his hands and laugh,
I hear the sound of the guns,
and the laughter dies.
But the witness
remains. _______________________________________________________
The Day I Get Rid Of My Heart
My brother, the one with brown skin, is hungry. Hell is
right here. I was not mindful, and you took away my
part of the steak.
My brother, the one with the yellow skin, is destitute.
His little boy fainted in school this morning, because
he lacked even a small sweet potato to eat. I was
busy struggling to prevent my landlord from raising
the rent. You equipped your company with new ma
chines, and I lost my job.
My brother, the one with black skin, cannot feed his
children, but his wife continues to bring forth new
babies. "Oh, how could you?" He said, "What can I
do?" With no milk, no rice, no potatoes, the woman
left her baby along the roadside, hoping someone
with a kind heart would take him home. I am so busy
struggling for better wages, I am so busy night and
day fighting the high cost of living, how can I find
time to come and help?
My brother, the one with the white skin, practices three
times eight. He does not eat and sleep like the rest
of his family. He is so nervous that he beats his wife
and terrorizes his children. Hell is there. Our struggle
is there. How can we lend a hand to a brother so far
away?
You said, "In the interest of the nation, we cannot stop
development." Knowing I am without a job, you offer
me a position in your company making bombs and
guns to sell to faraway countries. My children are
hungry, my wife is crying, and I almost give in. But
our brothers there need food. Why do you send them
bombs and guns to kill each other?
Because I was not mindful, you took away my steak. Be
cause I was neglectful, you took away the color TV,
the Mustang, and the resort house by the sea. You
tell me it is easy to have a car and TV, I only have to
sign on the dotted line and work for you. I am al
ready bound by so many things, I do not want to en
ter another maze. You say I am crazy, that I am a
snail who cannot carry even my own shell while I
think about shouldering the Himalayan mountains.
You used the grain that could have fed my brother to
produce your steak, and your pile of steaks is now so
high that it hides the sun. I cannot see the face of
my beloved. The handful of grain that could have
saved the starving child in Uganda was used instead
to produce liquor that you pour on the mountain of
steaks while blood is being poured on our planet.
How can I solve my problems if I keep thinking about
my brother? The day I get rid of my heart, I assure
you, that will be the day of my victory.
continue to page 2
|
|