For the Cambodian boy who changed my life.
Little boy bare footed,
one who wears torn cloths,
works in his fathers garden,
little boy no more than ten years old.
Little boy all covered in dirt,
is careful where he steps,
malnourished his tummy hurts,
little boy that doesn't rest.
No food is in his fathers garden,
little boy too young for this,
he is unaware of the life,
we here say he'll miss.
A man at only ten years old,
his mother was raped and maimed,
all she did was love her child,
and give him his fathers name.
Now this little boy with one arm only,
balances the bucket on his head,
he knows what he needs to do to survive,
for his father too is dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem