It was so poorly written I couldn't follow who I was asked to 'grade.'
Finally I said I'm gonna answer everything in one paragraph. Dave (friendly Dave) was very good but the person on the other end was terrible. He couldn't get my credit card to work.
Thing is, maybe he was doing everything in his power but for some reason it wasn't working.
*
I keep one frozen dinner in my freezer.
Amy's Indian Food.
Scott heated it up in his toaster oven, formerly mine.
Ate it while watching the PBS Evening News.
The Rohinga are being ushered inside and outside Myanmar.
They are one of 135 ethnic groups in Myanmar. BUT they are not recognized.
WHO AM I
My coffee-colored arms ache
from carrying my two-year-old girl
along miles of dusty road.
Our lungs are filled with dirt,
mud and slime. Rough men
abuse us. Their breath stinks
of onions and cocaine.
Once eons ago we lived at home.
All was good.
Allah was good. Now the sky
has fallen upon us, no one knows
our name, and we do not exist.
Very powerful poem. I think the brevity somehow adds to the power. Perfect!
ReplyDeleteHey Ruth! :)
ReplyDeleteI just read the Rohinga poem. It's beautiful. I had read about them before, and I found it sad that Aung Sun Suu Kyi didn't, or couldn't do anything about the persecution of their culture. It's sad that the rest of the country, their militia in particular, thought that it's in their best interest to wipe out this people group. Very sad, really.
Your poem about them captures what's happening to them quite beautifully, and it is truly on point.
Hope you're having a lovely weekend there! :)