From Haiti afar, Heguel came to live with us—
Dark skinned, bright eyed, meek, filled with gen'rous trust.
For two intense semesters Duquesne paid;
This man seized each course, mind set

—

unafraid.
His great hope, "Bring my broken country aid."

Spared was he when nature reigned so brutal.
It shook Port'au'Prince to crushing tombs of rubble.
He saw the bloodied corpses thrown askew;
Still seated school kids crushed beyond rescue.

Says he,
"To predict Haiti 's quake, Science had no skill.
Earth shakes to vent, it has no intent to kill.
Was human er'r, not nature gave men pause;
Murd'ring structures needed tougher building laws."

This soulful man speaks Creole, French, English, Spanish.
"Latin," he says, "is not a long dead language.
This tongue," he claims, "Is merely only sleeping—
'Neath many native tongues it hides supporting."

"Ahah, one can never cross the same river twice."
"Why?" puzzled I; "Well let us be precise.
"What's resolute is just the river's name.
The water round your feet can ne'er be the same."

When The Haitian Man returns to his land of strife,
With hope of help for a better way of life;
Heguel HOPE is a fitting name for him.
He gave far more than we ever gave to him.