The delicate balance between the have and the have nots

Is to be addressed by the have nots, not the haves.

They alone are qualified to tell us what light they need to keep

Walking.

We know this but refuse to hear.

The children on my street are asking me for 50 centavos for three

penny candies with a practiced whine and I make them laugh when I tell them

to use their real voice and I think that their price is unfair.

So I give them twice what they have asked for. In their glee they know

I know the game.

But its not a game.

When the lovely children need to get bread, their mother sends them out with

Treats and their mournful gaze, playing on our guilt which is justifiable

and real, to buy bread. She is doing laundry for the hotel duena and has

Callouses on her knees from waxing the entryway.

We are culpable in that we don’t even say good morning as is the custom

Of all civilised people here. Our silence says

‘You are not a person. Not really.’

We are changing the way you think about this now.

We are looking out at the seaside

And wondering what happens in a world where we say hello and smile? Where

We roll up our sleeves.

Get down there. Wash the dirt from our history. See in her

face, sending our children out into an uncertain world,

our sister.