Sunday, July 22, 2007

A teardrop forming into words





This is an old poem I wrote in Cambodia after visiting the Genocide Museum.


Genocide Museum
(Cambodia)
January 1999

This was a garrison
at the time of Pol Pot,
a period beyond tears,
you said.

I could almost touch
the mound in your chest
as you took me
to every relic

that traced the scenes
of mothers weeping
as soldiers thrust
their babies into the air.

I felt trapped
by one passing torment
afflicting people
who choose to remember

as I watched the blank stares
of young people
almost leaping
from the photographs.

As you led me outside
to buy tourist items
men who lost a leg
or an arm
was a common sight.

I have full arms
but I’ve lost
my own hands
watching war victims
beg from strangers.

Note: To have a bird's eye view of the Genocide Museum, a link from AlHamdouni5j photographs on the web is "web photo inlined" above the poem. Thanks to AlHamdouni5j for allowing people to have a link to his photos.

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