With Empty Hands We Ask

You don’t understand.

We want to live

Where our neighbors are people,

Not scavengers

Who refuse to meet our eyes

As they look for survival

Amongst dustbins and debris;

Where our fathers 

Are not beasts of burden,

Plowing unyielding lands,

Their spines, cracking under whips

And cruel tongues;

Where our mothers

Don’t have to

Shed their skin into our gruel,

Day after day after day.

You don’t understand 

What it’s like to wonder

Whether the water you drink

Will kill you today,

Whether the new pool of blood

It will be yours.

You don’t understand.

You don’t understand 

What it’s like to keep vigil near windows,

Wondering if they’ll come for your sister

And when they do,

Whether they’ll sling her across their shoulders,

Drag her by her hair

Or simply point and say « come. »

You don’t understand 

What it’s like to look at your brother

From under lowered eyelashes,

Wondering if he’s tall enough 

To be marched away with a gun in his hands.

We promise we’ll leave our songs behind.

We’ll bury our stories

Behind the wall

Along with our roots, souls, and soil.

We’ll come with doves 

Beating in our chests.

All this for our daily bread

So our stomachs may know peace.

You don’t understand.

We just want to live

Where

Our beans are not rationed,

Our breaths not measured.

We just want to live.

Please understand.