Triptych
Art by Heather Doram, Antigua and Barbuda
Suggestion: To be read as an altarpiece honoring the dead
See text for each section below:
Bombs
The heat erupts on my skin
into buried bodies,
rubble engulfing their delicate bones
caring not if they are young or old
panicked echoes of their last breath,
chanting freedom songs,
trapped, their ashes now rise
haunting us all
Struggle
Rage seethes
obfuscating the river’s bubbling,
the leaves’ teachings
about memory and change
transition and acceptance
The sun tracks my spirit
weaving through the mountain’s
rivers to the seas
Transformed, beauty now locates
another world beneath
waiting for those who turn to greet it
with the laughter of a million newborns
on the verge of becoming
Translation
You drop flyers in another language
to warn of an air strike meant to
annihilate the innocent
Imagine professing your love for your
neighbors
in their mother’s tongue
melting like ice cream
on a summer’s day
prompting laughter from the very babe
whose face you will never know