By Mike Odetalla
This too, I will remember...
My people huddled in darkness
Frightened, hungry, and thirsty
Caged like animals...
This too, I will remember...
The humiliation and sadness
Cries of the children in the air
The death hopelessness and despair
This too, I will remember...
Those that closed their eyes
Covered their ears
And silenced their voices
Oblivious of our suffering and tears
This too, I will remember...
The ones that cared
Spoke out and shared
In our suffering with others
We will remember them as our
brothers...
All of this I will remember...
Be it kindness
I will not forget
Kindness in return you will get...
For those that heaped on us suffering
and death
We will remember this until our last
dying breath...
All of this we will always remember...
Mike Odetalla 4-2002
By Mike Odetalla
Alone she sits
On the doorstep of a home
Long ago lost
Hidden from view by the shadows of
time
That heeds no one
Blood red hander kerchief in hand
Stained by the salt of too many tears
Wrung by wrinkled and weathered hands
She sits alone
Haunted by memories
Of long ago promises
Lost in a flash
Of burning grief
For the loss of a son
A soldier
A fighter
The tears cannot wipe away
The memories and the years
For the loss of a son
A soldier
A fighter
Inscribed on her cheeks
By the trail of the tears
Burned in her heart
A soldier
A fighter
A child, a son…
Flag draped coffin
A hero
A martyr
She has heard them all
The proud mother
On the outside
Sympathizers
Then they are gone
The flowers
Wilted and dry
New grass
And weeds grow
In the settled soil
She sits alone
Wiping away the dirt
That hides the inscription
Of his name
The soldier
he fighter
The hero
The martyr
The child
The son
She sits alone
Mike Odetalla 11-10-02
By Mike Odetalla
From a quarry
A boulder
Older than time
A stone
Is cut With
Hands bloodied
Which chiseled away the years
Weathered by time’s
Tireless march
Ivory white
Dimpled façade
Framed by
Mortar dyed in black
Building blocks
From the heart
Of the land
Where prophets walked
Great armies marched
Empires ruled
And crumbled
Like the color
Of the soil
Reminiscent of the
Hues of the setting Sun
In which Grow
The ancient trees
Of olives
On whose branches
Perch white doves
Together forming
A symbol
Peace
And yet
The hand chiseled stones
Now lie
In a heap of rubble
Only a faint memory
Of the image they once formed
Gone
By an angry behemoth
Belching clouds of
Sinister smoke and angry grumblings
Rusted metal tracks
Chewed the sunset red Soil
Turned to dust
The uprooted trees
Of olives lie dying
Fish
Out of life giving waters
I push aside
Salty tears to reveal
Under a dried branch
Of trees of olives
A white dove
With a scarlet wound
Framed
On its ivory Chest
Lifeless
A casualty
A symbol
Of the land where
Prophets walked
Great armies marched
Empires ruled
And crumbled
A family…
Homeless
Refugees
Again…
Mike Odetalla 1-3-02