When a little old nun comes up to you and begs for a dollar
What do you say...
Or when a man with no arms or no legs does the same…
Or little kids, a prostitute, or anyone who is hungry…
They have tin cups with arms outstretched or
A bottle of water in a spray container for washing your
Windshield.
They come by night and day
I wait for an hour or more in a long line
At the border crossing
Almost as desperate as they to leave their country.
I see despair everywhere
I know that if I give once there will be 20 more asking
And if I give twice I am certain to run out of money.
Will I raise false hopes
Provoke anger
It is the price of living free
That chance alone has given you and me
But with every passing minute my heart
Sinks deeper in this circumstance
There but for the grace of God go I
A reflection of my own face is everywhere
I hang my head in quiet contemplation and
Hope that they will not rebel against me
Another glance at hunger’s door
The tired the weary the poor
Beg with teary eyes.
Finally I am at the border booth
The official assesses my honesty by the
Value of my vehicle and how I am dressed and
My answers to one or two questions
He sees the empty look on my face
And surmises I am no threat to his charter
Or to his job.
He waves me through
My conscience is in disorder as I
Drive north and back to where
I know who I am but I no longer
Know what I am
Or why I am
Or when this emptiness
Will dissipate.
Oh I have seen similar faces
On similar people in
Korea and Egypt and
Thailand and Vietnam.
But they were half a world away
And half a lifetime.
Despair does not have a time limit
Or an expiration date
Once you have felt it heard it seen it
Or lived it
Your soul is marked for
All time.
You have captured the heart's confusion of wanting to see a foreign land, and confronting the poverty of the people. When I was younger, we lived on the Mexican border, swam in the Tijuana River. No more. Tijuana has built north a shanty town, and the entire area suffers from poverty and pollution. I love your last lines that once you have seen it you are marked forever. It's so true. Well written. Please take a look at my poem, "Why Fence in the Sea?" Have you seen that fence into the water?
Thought provoking and sad poem, but honest. Wish we could make things better for all the world, instead, our government seems to persist with the exploitation and bombs.
A heart wrenching statement that those of us in the United States tend to turn our backs on, worldwide poverty. There is no easy solution. The only thing we can do is empower these people, individually to overcome their situations. One way is through micro-finance which seems to be working well in several countries. Another way is to try to change the oppressive governments that force people into abject poverty and displace them through violence and oppression. The CIA has a very bad track record in doing this.
I have crossed both the northern and southern borders several times and the contrast is quite dramatic as described in your poem very well.
A soul so marked is also expanded ... and entrusted with vision.
Reviewed by Kathy Parenteau
Reviewed on August 31, 2014
Your poem speaks volumes. I have never traveled outside of my country, my comfort zone. I know what I see in documentaries and on CNN. This is a wake up call to humanity. Well done. How can we change the world? I wish I held the answers. For tonight I thank God for my life and your words remind me how blessed I am. Well done Mr. Phillips!
Yes, I'd go home poorer than they as I too would give away all that I've got to the little ones...glad I cannot see them as I have no passport nor do I have a desire to obtain one...you've made a very good case here, so much so that I definitely did not like reading it for its honesty...Find Peace, -e-
Excellent and moving. Powerful the thoughts expressed here. I can see the picture you portray here and it makes you feel so bad that so many human beings suffer so much, and yet we complain about so little.
There's a place in heaven for them and you.
This is a poem that should be rad by every anti-immigration fanatic. No, better yet, take them there, put them in the shoes of the people you encountered, and maybe, just maybe, they will grow some compassion.
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Yankee Doodle Daddy is a historical Appalachian Family Saga. The story follows a mother's reckoning as she struggles to survive and keep her four daughters alive.
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deeply moving verse ...
Michael D.
I have crossed both the northern and southern borders several times and the contrast is quite dramatic as described in your poem very well.
Ron
Kathy J Parenteau
There's a place in heaven for them and you.
God bles,
Chip Bergeron