Reflections
People gather
along the briar spine needled fences
posed as
painted statues of poverty
as our motorcade drives by.
Children move in slow motion
in the equatorial heat
their ample lips hang loosely
their eyes gaze like the elderly
in the nursing homes of America
who have resigned to a life
they have no control over.
The children's emaciated hopelessness
reflects like old folkness.
What an amazing American mirror I see.

Children By Any Other Name
Haitian children were everywhere,
Peeking through bushes,
Running in packs down the road
Haitian children walking backwards leading us
To some unknown where
Haitian children skipping along behind us
Protecting us by closing up the ranks
Haitian children walking hand in hand beside us
Welcoming us with
Eyes of wonder and joy
Everywhere I looked,
Haiti's children,
The consequences of political fall out
Yet children by any other name
are still children just the same.

Ooodles and Oodles
I saw oodles and oodles of naked children
Staring with enormous cricket eyes
Tight pregnant bellies full of hunger
Their spirits chanted to me
“Beat my heart beat
Walk the 12 miles
In my bare feet”
I had no Americanisms
No points of reference
No encyclopedia,
almanac or thesaurus
To define,
Explain or communicate
What I saw or…
What I felt.





























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