9/19/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo
(Inspired by the documentary "God Grew Tired of Us".)
The sun and moon shine down.
The path winds endlessly away
From the old home that is no more
To the future we don't know is waiting.
Lost Boys, we are our own caretakers
And watch over each other,
The eldest digging graves in the sand
As bones become brittle and hearts stop.
The beautiful desert mountains give us nothing.
We will get to the soul of matters
In songs, shrieks, shakes, and questions.
When I accept the trip to America,
I know I am leaving my brothers
To work hard, dig ditches, scrub dogs teeth,
Get shot at in the streets.
So I thought. So we thought.
And I do work hard, sending home every dollar,
But I do not dig ditches, or scrub dogs teeth,
Or get shot at in the streets.
Much worse - there is loneliness!
Where are the people who can answer
My questions about Santa Clause
And cruelty, and where my Mamma might be?
This is not Africa.
We are safe, but there is no time
To see our brothers, to meet and sing.
We will make time, we say.
Weeks go by.
There is no loneliness as deep
As the loneliness of a lost boy
Separated from the other boys.
The struggle is great.
I do it for Africa, for Sudan,
Yes, for my walking brothers.
Still the sun and moon shine down
Upon the path I hope
Shall bring all of us back home.
No comments:
Post a Comment