Listen, this is true. We walked for days.
The desert in our shoes. Our little ones
ran out of tears. The sun was a blister in the sky.
Before us, others had crossed.
At night we heard the song
of bones. Some said it was the wind
but no wind ever sounded like that.
It was as if all the dead formed a chorus
and the words split apart mid-air. We dreamt
of what lay ahead.
Distance was an enemy that kept growing
longer like that parade of children
the piper once led out of town. We knew
that story, how the young ones never returned.
We could never believe such a terrible thing
until we reached the border.
Years from now, they will say it didn’t happen.
–
Babo Kamel’s poems have appeared in literary reviews in the US, Australia, and Canada. She holds an M.F.A. from Warren Wilson’s Program for Writers, and she is a Best of the Net nominee and a five-time Pushcart nominee. Her chapbook, After, is published with Finishing Line Press.