Sunday, April 10, 2016

A poem for Amparo

When I lived in Nicaragua
I stayed with a man named Henry.
Henry took in anyone
and everyone.

One time there were
five of us
all sleeping on his
California King.

Me, Henry, his boyfriend,
and his best friend, Amparo
who brought her one-year old son, 
sick from a fever.

One day I was talking
about the people who helped me
along the way.
At the end of it she sighed and said something
that stuck with me

"In every place it is the same;
there are few people 
who are bad."

This is did not come from
a place of privilege
where seeing the world with an amber hue
comes easy.

This came from someone
poor and struggling
living in Nicaragua
as a woman.

Someone who left home
because her drunken husband
starting beating her

Sometimes I am still
lucky enough
to hear her words
when I find myself 

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