Nicaragua
April 2011
A Nicaraguan woman recently shared the following poem with one of our volunteers in Nicaragua. It is very moving and could represent any place on earth where there is violence and pain.
Nicaragua by Marco Morelli
I am in love with a woman raped
because in the sordid anguish of her wound
she has learned to love
and because her deepest need,
like my own,
is love.
I have opened my heart to disillusionment.
I am drowning in the catatonic waters of her eyes,
where dreams once splashed,
where independence torches marching in the night
once reflected.
Now she is mud and disease,
she is chaos and blood,
she is a hurricane of drunkenness and exploitation.
Still she is beautiful.
I sit alone at night listening to her mountains howl,
and think . . .
I swing her barefoot children in giggling wild circles
and fall dizzily smiling in the grass.
without machine, I dig her colorful earth
and lay, with blistering hands, an intimate foundation.
I let the flooding rivers of her disappointment spill over me
when there’s no money for the operation,
when the application to escape the hopelessness
has been denied,
when the relief aid hasn’t trickled down
and she’s hungry, hungry, hungry . . .
And I read her poems,
where she sings with fists and guffaws
her insurrection,
her solidarity,
her love.
I love a woman who was raped,
who continues to be raped
and who is not the rapist’s only victim.
oh, and though I haven’t known my lover long,
I know the rapist well.
I know the rapist well.