Somalia

90,000 children in Somalia died
It was the drought, they said
It was the famine…I knew
And still it continues
While I fill up my shopping cart
Open the door to my home and sit
Comfortably hot with the fan on
And have the luxury of my favorite beverages
To cool even the least intrusive of humidity

Then in my mind I squabble over the purpose in my life
Wondering if I am going where I need to be
Pining over things I want to make me feel a better person
Selfishly filling three journal pages with thoughts
All about me
And the person I wish to be
While far away, in conditions I couldn’t imagine
A young mother cries
While dehydration steals the last breath
From her youngest child

Oh woe is me

And I stand at the cash register
In the retail store
Serving with a smile
While the bourgeoisie shoppers
(Who can afford a $40 t-shirt)
Can you imagine?
Scream at the lack of a wash room
And throw their chubby fists because we don’t have the size that fits
Then they threaten to call “corporate”
(Big word, don’t you think)
Because we won’t return the shirt they have washed and worn
All the while screaming
They are out fifteen dollars
But just ate at Red Lobster\

Somewhere, under a sun cruel and hungry
An impoverished infirmary is too full
In the back room the nurse is crying
They lost another one today
And tomorrow they will lose more
The boy was seven years old
He had a name
Although she has already forgotten it
The thought caused her too much pain

She hasn’t really eaten in two days
But she whispers to herself
She must not complain
Those portions, feeble as they were
Helped save four lives

Her only wish is that it would rain.