This poem is for him
Chaco is Green Hell
I went there for research
Of the war, oil flirts
Between Oil Standard, and the Shell.
The locals were victims and the dead
(In thousands)
I needed some bullets
Argentines’ or others’
And graves.
Guarani were people
The locals, displaced
By so called Christian
(Peace lovers)
Mennonites with claims
So I walked day and night
I finished my water
It ran out.
Almost dead was fallen on roadside
Eyes blind in the sun
Motor bike came and passed
I could not raise my voice
He stopped, and returned
Behind him was a child
In a can he carried rainwater
Human he was and
With me shared.
My life now, is half his
Doubtlessly I owe him
This poem is for him
And for those who read this
Better life we can live
Only if…
Like bike-man we can share
Part of us…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem