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The Lonely Watchtower
High
on top
of the spiked heel
of the joy-woman's shoe,
you build your watchtower--
your loopholes open
on the shabbily thatched roofs;
your loopholes open
on the withered gardens
and burnt-out paddies,
where at night
our souls come back
and dance
in silence.
At noon,
you throw down
your empty sardine cans,
your empty beer cans,
your empty Coke bottles,
your cigarette butts.
In the afternoon,
you aim your guns' black barrels
toward the body,
the destitute body
of your own motherland.
And when evening descends,
you chase solitude away
by shooting flarebombs
into the air.
Even the tiny ant on the thatched roof
trembles with fear.
Always you search elsewhere
for the enemy.
But the enemy is here
and rules your universe,
reigns in you
and is everywhere.
There, in your heart,
the enemy waits
like an explosive
for its time.
High
on top
of the spiked heel
of the joy-woman's shoe,
you build your watchtower.
But the day will come
when,
singly and by millions,
the tears of our people
will meet and blend,
as trickles become ponds, streams, rivers.
The river will flow
and flow
rise and rise,
until a tide of tears
flushes away
the joy-woman's lipstick and powder,
and your gold, your silver,
your powder.
The flood of tears
will wash away
your garbage,
your waste,
your junk.
_________________________________________________
I Met You in the Orphanage Yard
Your sad eyes
overflowed
with loneliness and pain.
You see me.
You turned your face away.
Your hands drew circles
in the dusty ground.
I dared not ask you
where your father or mother was.
I dares not open up your wounds.
I only wished to sit with you a moment
and say a word or two.
O you small ones
of four or five--
your life buds already cut off,
already engulfed
by cruelty, hatred, and violence.
Why? Why?
My generation,
my cowardly age,
must shoulder the blame.
I'll go in a moment,
and you will remain
in the shabby yard.
Your eyes will return
to your familiar yard
and your fingers will draw again
those small circles
of pain
in the dusty ground.
continue to page 5
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