haiti.

this is not a poem
just my hurt

engraved on the tips of fingers

blood as ink

i sink into thought-

writing

becomes painful

my back, still hunched
over
feels like
i will never stand
straight
can't even look you
in your bloodshot eyes
my spirit cries though tears wont
fall
reminds me
of the buildings
of the black sky
crashing down
the children
cradling their own wounds
searching for an open hand
in a land stigmatized
while babies screeching cries
still scattered
across unforgiving slabs of concrete
mirrors shattered-
Glass scarring sun kissed skin
mothers no longer recognize the reflections
of their loved ones when
limbs and traces
of once beautiful faces are stuck
beneath stone
Home has turned to hell
Bodies dwell under the rubble of these great
sculptures
now ash and dust
i trust in God's plan
but still-it's hard to stand
my knees
two seconds from giving in
feel like giving up
these poems - never enough
what can i do for you, dear haiti?
i am but a woman
worried and wondering and wanting
to carry you
in my womb
birth you all over
show the world you were born
beautiful
pure
and free
show the world you were rich before you were raped
i want you
to continue holding your head
up
all dignity, no shame
let the world know your name
not for this earth
quake
but for earth's sake
This shaking
Violent awakening, is nobody’s fault
But should be everyone’s problem
i wanted to write an answer
Wanted to create
something powerful for you
something to alleviate the pain
but in this aching moment...this,
is all i have
a pile of letters drenched in rain
words turned to worlds
soaked and floating above water
making truth clear and easily seen
but eyes choose what they open themselves to seeing
a dream
is one blink away
from being
a nightmare
i am afraid
to sleep
my bed too comfortable
my worries, too vain
Conscious stained and so i pray
When the rain pours,
All will recognize
the umbrella
of God
Bless
Haiti.