Thursday, May 7, 2015

There will be houses again..

I see an elderly woman
A child playing beside her
She has been staring for hours
at the rubble of a house.

Gone are her loved ones
husband, son, daughters, in laws
And she lives amongst the rotten smell of her pets
From those buried alive
rises the effigies of beautiful memories.

White faces, brown faces, black faces
All human faces
Who live under the different flags
walk helping around her villages
She offers a  hot black tea
and her toothless grin.

People around the world write in wonder
What are we made of?
And I say to them
"Hey! Monsoon is near
With those same grieving hands
We will create miracles."

The deserted fields you see in horror today
Will be lush green in September
There will be houses again,
Hearts firm and strong
They will sing and dance
In our melodious folk songs.

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