Burma: Tears That Tell Tales
POETRY FORMAT, 24 Nov 2014
Khaingmar Kyawzaw – TRANSCEND Media Service
In a hut used as a hiding spot
Sat a little boy
Who was crying silently
With tears rolling down his cheeks.
In the depths of those tears
You will see hounds, blood-thirsty hounds,
Thunderous explosions and sounds of machine-gunfire,
The hot ashes of an entire village just burnt to the ground,
A mother with her chest heaving with fear-soaked exhaustion,
Karen girls who had just lost their virginity, raped (by marauding
gangs from Tatmadaw or Myanmar’s Feudal Army),
Legs amputated or blown up by those antipersonnel landmines,
And long lines of war fleeing refugees leaving behind homes and
everything there is in their lives.
Oh, ye poor little boy,
Cry, Do cry your eyes out
Wipe your tears away
And get ready to do the work cut out for you.
If you truly love Mother, who became yet just another casualty (of the
Burmese War)
Get yourself an education
Then tell the story about your hamlet long-vanished from the map of Burma
Write poetic prose about your now-lost mother’s home where she was
bringing you up
Immortalize those happy festive occasions of your childhood days
Be a source of strength and encouragement for those little Karen girls
whom you are so fond of
Be of service to your fellow Karen villagers
That …. That would really delight your deceased mother.
That would give her the reason to clap her hands hard in greatest satisfaction
________________________
Original in Burmese. Translation by TRANSCEND member Dr. Maung Zarni.
This article originally appeared on Transcend Media Service (TMS) on 24 Nov 2014.
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