A Dream of Forgetting
©June 24th, 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
Somewhere, trees stand tall
Like my Papa, who stands
Both legs apart, arms akimbo,
Staring into the distance,
Hearing the sound of hogs
Before the peace of the afternoon
Shatters into a thousand
Shards, and slices into our family.
Somewhere, water flows like
My Mama’s hair rippling in the breeze,
After she’s washed it,
And she’s hanging up a few clothes
To dry in burning sun,
But water is scarce, and
We are scared, and we turn
To face a land that has
Plenty, so much more
Than we can dream of.
We are here, now, in this land
Of plenty, but there’s none for me.
I dream and dream, to forget
The hunger in my belly,
The smell of unwashed bodies,
And the pain slicing me
Like a rough-edged knife
When I think of both my parents,
Gone, like the memory
Of a photograph in a dream.
I sit on a concrete floor,
With little ones, hollow-eyed,
Hollow-cheeked, hollow-bellied,
With no sound coming from
Open mouths, eyes dry,
All tears gone.
Somewhere, there are flowers
Pink and blue and purple,
Scenting the air, gladdening
Bees and tempting butterflies
Which dance in the air,
Lust-crazed and dizzy above them.
Somewhere, water flows like freedom,
And I dance barefoot on grass,
Full of sweetness and the
Soft murmurings of gentle insects
So full of life and quiet rhythms.
I dream.
Somewhere, my father still stands
Tall as the trees, unbending,
On another land that is green,
He whistles, and the hogs
And goats around him lie content.
Somewhere, my mother hangs up
Clothes to dry, her hair rippling
Like waves. I eat rich, soft
Tortillas, and drink cool water,
My belly full of gratitude.
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