My mother was raped when she was eleven,
not just by one man – there were seven.
Now she holds me upon her knee,
she was young but fertile, as all can see.
I sit upright at six months old.
I see the world as each day unfolds.
My mother nurses me but never enough.
In a displaced person’s camp, life is tough.
I enjoy life when I’m not sleeping in our tent.
People look at me – walk away, head bent.
Even though I smile, they don’t smile back.
My eyes are light brown, my skin is not black.
I feel my mother loves me, but somehow I know,
her love is not bonding, it’s tentative and slow.
At least she’s feeding me, taking care of my needs.
When I’m older, walking, will she still be there for me?
Arab men have great pride.
They would be happy to know they put me inside
my mother’s womb; I’m a mixed breed for sure,
a Janjaweed, ‘devil on horseback,’ my life to endure.
Will I be raised carefully, as if I belong?
Will I be taught my mother’s tribal song?
Will black children taunt me because I’m brown?
Will I grow up with anger, which I may not keep down?
Since I’m a boy, people may say,
“He’s inherited his father’s violent ways.”
If I’m cast out from my mother’s tribe,
how will I live – when I’m crying inside?
Robert Temple Frost
Saturday, October 21
Tuesday, October 3
DEATH WATCH
How does a person decide to be
a candidate for suicide for all to see.
A blush, with pleasure, at quiet acclaim,
one knows there’s purpose with no one to blame.
What purpose could justify ending a vital life?
Is life so unrewarding it feels like strife?
A man, a woman, no work , no pay,
sitting, drifting, conspiring all day.
There are those looking, a first step to recruit,
young minds, moldable minds, just right to suit,
the training for purpose, replace apathy with passion.
Sharpen focus for hatred, prepare for a mission.
Brothers, sisters, family, all,
know what’s coming, quietly applaud the call.
It’s a community endeavor, all know what’s at stake
for a loved one to choose, a crucial decision to make.
What words like a pearl from a husked oyster shell
convert apathy into an inferno, even hotter than hell,
where the heat of hate is nourished with care,
to create a controlled passion to lurk in its lair.
The words are drawn from Mohammed’s own tale
to sully Allah, the One god, makes one pale
at the dishonor, disrespect for the core of one’s faith,
allowing retribution at a planner’s measured pace.
Once trained, well honored in life before doom,
the new resource is added, to be used fairly soon
to strike against crowds of helpless people.
Once done – will bells ring from every steeple?
The act is grisly – beyond despair,
how do you deal with it, begin to repair?
We’re all human beings – all here together?
Choice to accept religions must last forever.
Particularly in the West, those haughty nations
looking down on Muslims fosters bad relations.
It’s only oil they fervently need,
Supporting kings, dictators eager to heed.
The national wealth disappears in the lurking mist
little remains like a furtive kiss
to help the people with long term gain
in education, jobs, world recognition to attain.
It’s ‘face’ above all Muslims yearn to protect,
after centuries of colonialism, unwilling subjects.
To demand respect, dignity, we’re as good as you,
With Allah on their side, jihads’ followers grew.
How does one stop a tsunami from smashing over a beach?
How does one stop a hurricane before it’s a lesson to teach?
Where are the scholars, the humanists who really do know,
how ignoring ‘face’ leads to a terrorist’s blow?
They must be the teachers and governments must listen,
to their primordial screams, bringing tears that will glisten,
as emotions are felt about the pending disasters
to people called ‘infidels’, and the truths they must master.
The opposite of ‘Holy War’ is Secular Peace’
founded on trust, respect, sincere desire for a new lease,
to buy time, to create change so powerful that all will see,
that giving up hate and rivalry will become the key.
The means are there to create this powerful change,
with a grassroots up welling – the widest possible range
of people expressing hope, so their leaders will know,
that continuing in the old ways is not the way to go.
A world-wide symposium held in Greece as the place,
where presidents and kings, religious leaders will chase
the golden ball struck by scholars and historians,
to win a peace and joy as once lived by the Minoans.
Robert Temple Frost
9/06/06
a candidate for suicide for all to see.
A blush, with pleasure, at quiet acclaim,
one knows there’s purpose with no one to blame.
What purpose could justify ending a vital life?
Is life so unrewarding it feels like strife?
A man, a woman, no work , no pay,
sitting, drifting, conspiring all day.
There are those looking, a first step to recruit,
young minds, moldable minds, just right to suit,
the training for purpose, replace apathy with passion.
Sharpen focus for hatred, prepare for a mission.
Brothers, sisters, family, all,
know what’s coming, quietly applaud the call.
It’s a community endeavor, all know what’s at stake
for a loved one to choose, a crucial decision to make.
What words like a pearl from a husked oyster shell
convert apathy into an inferno, even hotter than hell,
where the heat of hate is nourished with care,
to create a controlled passion to lurk in its lair.
The words are drawn from Mohammed’s own tale
to sully Allah, the One god, makes one pale
at the dishonor, disrespect for the core of one’s faith,
allowing retribution at a planner’s measured pace.
Once trained, well honored in life before doom,
the new resource is added, to be used fairly soon
to strike against crowds of helpless people.
Once done – will bells ring from every steeple?
The act is grisly – beyond despair,
how do you deal with it, begin to repair?
We’re all human beings – all here together?
Choice to accept religions must last forever.
Particularly in the West, those haughty nations
looking down on Muslims fosters bad relations.
It’s only oil they fervently need,
Supporting kings, dictators eager to heed.
The national wealth disappears in the lurking mist
little remains like a furtive kiss
to help the people with long term gain
in education, jobs, world recognition to attain.
It’s ‘face’ above all Muslims yearn to protect,
after centuries of colonialism, unwilling subjects.
To demand respect, dignity, we’re as good as you,
With Allah on their side, jihads’ followers grew.
How does one stop a tsunami from smashing over a beach?
How does one stop a hurricane before it’s a lesson to teach?
Where are the scholars, the humanists who really do know,
how ignoring ‘face’ leads to a terrorist’s blow?
They must be the teachers and governments must listen,
to their primordial screams, bringing tears that will glisten,
as emotions are felt about the pending disasters
to people called ‘infidels’, and the truths they must master.
The opposite of ‘Holy War’ is Secular Peace’
founded on trust, respect, sincere desire for a new lease,
to buy time, to create change so powerful that all will see,
that giving up hate and rivalry will become the key.
The means are there to create this powerful change,
with a grassroots up welling – the widest possible range
of people expressing hope, so their leaders will know,
that continuing in the old ways is not the way to go.
A world-wide symposium held in Greece as the place,
where presidents and kings, religious leaders will chase
the golden ball struck by scholars and historians,
to win a peace and joy as once lived by the Minoans.
Robert Temple Frost
9/06/06