One night, I decide to leave the crowd
of noisy cousins behind, so that I can stargaze
alone, turning my view of the wild sky’s
radiance
into new rhymes.
At the edge of a swamp, I stumble upon a scene
so shocking that I wonder if I’m dreaming.
Beside an oxcart, two men battle with machetes,
until the hand of one is sent flying into the dark air,
chopped off.
Should I tell anyone what I’ve seen,
or will sensible grown-ups refuse to listen
to this tale of a violent crime witnessed by a child?
Isn’t the role of poets to pass along truths,
both gruesome and beautiful?
Yes, I’ll have to tell, and maybe someday
I’ll put the terrifying memory in writing as well.