Saturday, April 02, 2005
Life Underneath the Pyramids
"No Mama," She says, "No Papa."
I look down at my feet and see
A tiny, brown, barefooted girl.
"What?" I ask.
"No Mama, no Papa."
"Mmm Hm." I smile--sure!
She places lower lip beyond upper lip,
But in her eyes is nothing to pity.
Nothing living--no character.
She has been taught these words out of the crib.
And perhaps they are true.
Perhaps the woman she takes my chocolate to
Is her sister.
Perhaps it is her mother.
Who can say but they?
In my mind, I see that her family is very common,
But in their alley, they are comfortable.
"They work the Haram--the pyramids." the neighbors say with respect.
And in the home, the little girl,
Bathed and dressed,
Fills the empty holes in her ears
With golden earrings.
I look down at my feet and see
A tiny, brown, barefooted girl.
"What?" I ask.
"No Mama, no Papa."
"Mmm Hm." I smile--sure!
She places lower lip beyond upper lip,
But in her eyes is nothing to pity.
Nothing living--no character.
She has been taught these words out of the crib.
And perhaps they are true.
Perhaps the woman she takes my chocolate to
Is her sister.
Perhaps it is her mother.
Who can say but they?
In my mind, I see that her family is very common,
But in their alley, they are comfortable.
"They work the Haram--the pyramids." the neighbors say with respect.
And in the home, the little girl,
Bathed and dressed,
Fills the empty holes in her ears
With golden earrings.
