by Sue Repko
In general, we do not march
Protest
Stomp our feet
For our brothers and sisters with brown skin
Crossing deserts here and there
Who speak languages we do not yet understand,
Languages that compel our silence
And why?
A cry of pain -
A cry of loss -
No translation required.
We understand two towers collapsing
We understand the wrath of hurricanes and
Learn the science of tsunamis
Apply compassion
And give and give and give.
But why are we not moved to move our feet
Unconditionally
Across the lines in the sand here and there
And raise our voices
To say
Enough is enough,
He is my brother,
She is my sister?
The bombs and rockets
The guns of the few
On all sides
Do the talking for the many.
No translation required.
Sue Repko is a writer, urban planner, community activist, and high school girls' basketball and softball coach. Her fiction has appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Beloit Fiction Journal, Bryant Literary Review, Kelsey Review, New Millennium Writings and online. Her nonfiction has appeared in newspapers, magazines and online. Her website is www.suerepko.com and she recently started blogging at www.suerepko.blogspot.com. She lives with her family in central New Jersey.
