I drive by in my car with tinted windows and full on AC
singing to the music pulsing through my radio. I passively see what’s going
on around me. A woman with three children, one on her back, the other on her
side and holding the third’s hand. I see beggars on every corner, and somehow
my heart’s not responsive. I am immune to the gaping
poverty all around me. The buildings sing in a low hushed voice, singing so low as they sink into the ground, dirty water running through the city. The child bends and washes his little pale face with this same water.
Why am I wide-awake like it’s the first time I am seeing
this hopelessness? Why do I feel ashamed? It's not my fault! Are we poor because of our government’s apathy and callous ways? Are we
poor because of the laziness that society tolerates? We are lost in an
abyss and there’s no one to save us. Not even the government we hold in such
high esteem.
My country is beautiful, it has the potential for an economic boom,
its beauty promises us prosperity. Children dying due to hunger and disease
sleeping under our beds. The earth in its redness opens its hands as it takes
all with it, no mercy in its eyes. My country, my poor, beautiful country held
in iron chains and unable to break free.
I see a child, 14 years old, making his way through
the traffic to my car with a sense of hope in his steps. He smiles thinking
that I am reaching for some loose change. To his despair, I reach for the
central lock to ascertain maximum security. My heart unresponsive, my
music even louder, my country in chains.
