Brille La Luz alla Gente del Sol
Poetry inspired by the events of the village of Acul Guatemala.

I'm in Command- Buddy Erk
A Letter To Mama- Nicole Corso
Untitled- Kirstin Cahalen
A GOOD DAY- Jennifer Walker
Unanswered Questions- Heather Richard
Mother's Love- Becky Drozynski
Hide-and-Seek- Erin Rogers
Finding Heaven- Scott Barsotti
Untitled- Steve Basilone
Untitled- Lindsey Bernardo
A Tribute- Aimee Arnett
Untitled- Jen Pegher
Screaming for Father- nick bonaddio
Untitled- vanessa eck

 

 

I'm in Command

 

"Time to go," I say to my troops.

Loyal, faithful, to my every command.

Young and afraid, but devoted to their duty,

They do exactly what I tell them.

 

"Don't let the Civil Patrol down,"

I say to my nervous troops

As we approach the village.

"Do not be afraid. Your people thank you."

 

"Kill those people," I say

As we pass a few men on their way to work.

"Don't kill all of them."

We shot some, and took the others.

 

"Go get some more men."

My soldiers invaded houses, and took prisoners.

Some of these men I had put in a school

And some in a church, and were beaten.

 

"Jump onto the leaves."

I say to the men from the school.

They resist, but then jump. Then they cry.

I hate them.

 

"Outside. Now"

Soon all men and nephews

Were brought by the grave

And separated into heaven and hell.

 

"Line up."

All the men line up.

"Shoot."

My men shoot.

 

"Fill it up."

The grave was complete.

Most of the town is dead,

They deserved it.

 

- Buddy Erk

 

 

"A Letter To Mama"

 

Dear Mother,

 

The morning sky dripped a scarlet blood on the horizon as I awoke,

thunder ripped through my room and pushed me to the ground and dragged

me along with it,

the town had changed to the color of shadows,

the shackles made of rope bound my limbs together,

every touch of those wicked hands forced a cry of hopelessness,

weak sounds sputtered from my throat,

muffled by dying leaves and dry heaps of dirt.

 

Hammers with souls pounded my back, cracking and stabbing me with agony,

jerked to my throbbing feet I trudged to where these slayers would take

me,

to this ditch of pain,

I felt it,

sharp pins sliced through my chest then my head,

I started to fall

faster and faster the pins followed me till everything went black,

the last sound I heard was piercing laughter.

 

So here I am mother,

some place they call the world of dreams,

 

I see you weeping at night,

I see you worn and feeble,

take care of yourself mother,

stop searching for the answers,

try to erase the thoughts from your little mind,

tell my sister I love her,

I'm watching out for her now,

she is just as scared as you.

 

Oh and mother,

most of all tell father I know he tried,

I saw the pain in his eyes as a fell,

it is a lasting horrid memory.

 

I'll see you all when you get here.

 

Love

Your son

- Nicole Corso

 

 

Untitled

 

His Bue eyes trembled

As he stood by the grave

to young to die

To young to be brave

 

Cold winter whips at his face

Freezing his tears in time

Another place he will no longer be

 

I hear him whisper

Mama all will be fine

But dear mama, please

keep my memory alive

 

The tears start to roll

Down my soft white check

My little one

no more does he speak

 

- Kirstin Cahalen

 

 

A GOOD DAY

 

HE SEES HER BROWN EYES STARRING AT HIM

SHE IS THE REASON HE LOVE WAKING UP

EVERYDAY

HE PONDERS THE IDEA OF SPENDING THE

MORNING ALONE

WITH HER

BUT KNOWS THE CORNFEILDS ARE BECOMING

IMPATIENT

WAITING TO BE BLOWN BY THE RAPID WINDS

ANXIOUS TO SLAP HIM IN THE FACE

MAYBE THE SUN WILL NOT BEAT DOWN QUITE SO

HARD

AND THE BEADS OF SALTY SWEAT WILL BE FEWER

HOPEFULLY THE RAIN WILL COME AFTER HIS DAYS

WORK IS DONE

COOLING HIM DOWN ON HIS WAY TO HER SMILE

IT WILL BE A GOOD DAY KNOWING

HE WILL SEE HER SOON

 

- Jennifer Walker

 

 

Unanswered Questions

 

Daddy,

where are you taking me?

Why do you hold me so close?

Why is your grip so tight?

 

Daddy,

who are these men?

Why are they here?

Did I do something wrong?

 

Daddy,

I am so scared,

but my trust lies in you.

You will not let me be harmed.

 

Daddy,

You are always with me

helping me be strong.

Do not let me cry.

 

Daddy,

am I to be punished?

Why must I stand before this grave?

Please stay with me.

 

DADDY,

why does he raise his gun at me?

What sin have I committed?

His eyes are so cold.

 

DADDY

Panic fills my eyes.

Why do you not help me?

Why do you not reach out?

 

Help me,

Father.

 

- Heather Richard

 

 

 

 

Mother's Love

 

I held that living thing in my arms

In hope he would shed no evil.

Teaching him that life was precious

Wasn't good enough.

How could he force those people,

Torn apart from their families,

Follow orders or face the gun,

Lives destroyed at the hand of my son.

Turned his back on what I taught him.

Forgot about how precious life was.

Could I look at him the same way,

Could I still love him for who he was,

or could I forget just like he did.

 

- Becky Drozynski

 

 

 

Hide-and-Seek

 

I can still remember how the musty old graveyard behind the church

Hosted many games, captivating us deep into the night

The still, warm air of summer, our hot breath

The tall grass, rarely cut, pricked our bare ankles

Like tiny little devils, preying on virgin skin.

The blank, unforgiving sky, whispered unbearable thoughts

Into our naive minds, sending chills through our steaming blood.

The seeker began to count "1...2...3..."

As we crept over the pungent, decaying beds

Where the flowers once bloomed, but have long since decomposed

Swallowed into the ground, like the spirits of the deceased.

I crouch behind the unnamed tomb, and I know I won't be found

Because her death was recent, only two weeks passed

The moist dirt spread over her freshly dug grave

The only place in the graveyard where grass has yet to grow

Although I swore I could hear her speaking to me, from her eternal rest

Buried several feet into the ground, that we were disrespectful kids

And that the dead should be left alone in the night, not trampled on

By scrubby little feet, black with dirt, and soon soaked in sin.

But this was the only hiding spot, where I could be sure to win

Because we were all petrified, of those graves,

That were recently empty holes, promising nothing,

And then suddenly filled, at the start of our next game.

 

We were the innocents darting through the cemetery

Never realizing that the father, brother, cousin we never knew

Were the horrid images that we felt rustling in the silent trees

And the moans seeping through the lifeless ground.

We never knew that the tombless irrelevant graves

Disguised unforgivable sins against our families.

Our kindred haunted the graveyard on those summer nights

To damn the evil that cursed their forgotten lives

And to drive away the demonic villains that slain them

So that we might finish our game.

 

- Erin Rogers

 

 

Finding Heaven

 

The sun set early this afternoon,

Darkness surrounds the small space I occupy.

A thick, artificial night imitated by a mound

Of earth enshrouding me,

Somehow cold even in the foul heat.

 

Just as the slimmest speck of gracious sun

Fought and poked its way through the

Opaque cloak of dirt to reach me,

The vicious walls collapse,

Setting my thoughts on fire, wild with confusion,

Sending my mind racing almost to the point

When the fear overshadowed the pain.

The tremendous weight cracking my bones,

Crushing my muscles, taking my life.

The slaughter continues endlessly,

Tenaciously crashing down on my already lifeless shell,

Proceeding to pound until I give up and

Lose touch with consciousness.

 

I awake not long after I stumbled to sleep

To find that a calming serenity had bestowed its

Faithful hand upon the church.

I claw my way up out of my broken body,

Still lying under its fabricated grave.

I silently thank God that I was taken in the first attack,

The wicked display of inhuman heartlessness

I was now witness to was a sword I would not

Run my darkest demons onto.

Lined up like animals, my friends and brothers drop.

The disgraceful gunshots ringing out,

Piercing my ears as they plummet to the floor of the mass tomb,

The blasts echo clear even as I ascend, and I cry

For the souls that perish under the iron eye of the steely pistol.

Touching the clouds, I take one last glance down

And see the helpless fathers, shamefully looking on,

But unable to perform the heroics they wish they had in them.

Their tears saturated with the pride that this crime

Has robbed them of, dripping away,

Tracing their salty rings in the dust below.

Weeping again, I embrace my new home

Where I am finally safe.

 

- Scott Barsotti

 

 

Untitled

 

cries. theycried and cried, but they did nothing. go to heaven? like

hell. cowards, these men are cowards. they willnot go to heaven, they

will rot in hell and know the pain that their peaceful innocent

children

knew. all alone these beautiful strong children of god tackled such

uglieness. alone. they walked through a hell of pain and anger all

because their ignorant cowards of fathers would not say yes. yes my

son, it will be okay. i am here and you will be safe. or no. no, you

will not do this to my family. you will not violate my blood. those

bloody cowards would not open their ignorant eyes. they let their sons

die. no opposition, no pleas, no fight, just disgusting self pity.

weak spiteful pity. they saw a hell, and did nothing but cry. they

are

monsters, and now i am a monster. i have paid, and so will they.

justice has been served.

 

- Steve Basilone

 

 

Untitled

 

We covered up those bodies, just the pastor and me,

mopped up the skin and the blood.

The atrocities of that day,

hell unleashed in the holiest of places.

blood drips from the boy's mouth

I bent down to retrieve the soiled clothes torn off in the struggle,

white scarf fell into the mess,

retrieved it-bloody.

tears squeeze from the boy's swollen eyes

My pastor, oh he's long since disappeared,

don't know where he's gone,

or what he's found.

a piercing yelp erupts from the boy's throat

So I am now left alone- wait, no, I'm not!

sat down with my friends, no conversation broke the silence

tried to play catch, they wouldn't throw back.

I laid down, helpless, cried, accepted.

 

So I finished cleaning up those bodies,

dragged them from the church

washed down the walls.

All the blood, skin and dirt washed down the hole.

Cleaned up the mess that wasn't mine.

 

 

- Lindsey Bernardo

 

 

 

A Tribute

 

I watched the soliders line you up before your grave,

a single tear came to your eye,

but you looked at me and smiled.

The solider picked his gun up.

I screamed as the shot rang out.

I fell to my knees and asked God, "why"?

Then I looked up in the sky,

and I saw an angel flying away,

and I knew you were being taken to heaven.

 

- Aimee Arnett

 

Untitled

 

The smell of sweat and fear

fuels my own blood,

my desire for control.

I am a God,

no,

I am THE God;

able to manipulate,

to choose fates.

It brings almost erotic sensations.

Blame falls on the weak,

the pitiful origin

of all inadequacy.

I am never what I loathe.

 

I wear my strength on my chest.

Embodied in medals and ribbons,

and rigid bullets exploding from my gun barrel,

tangible symbols of who I am.

I am power, dominance, control,

a soldier.

I will never be less.

 

- Jen Pegher

 

 

Screaming for Father

 

I saw the sunset last night.

The vision of amber green horizons were like unreal peace

iran into the sun over the knoll and leapt out into the sky

like a a free fall from the panic and the streams of life.

 

I remembered how the rain would always fall before dawn

turning the village into a kingdom of light.

 

We were simple children chasing the sun in the dew of the morning

each scene was more serene than a wild and wounded tangerine dream.

 

Each day took us to a higher state of consciousness.

 

We had fallen to our knees in the fragile arms of mercy

we were lying on the floor with the music in our heads

 

shattering emotional violence and heretic drones of silence

forming an attack of insane bladed seduction.

 

Blood on the floor

 

covered in hope

 

 

our innocence smashed by an angel of pure destruction

 

 

- nick bonaddio

 

 

 

Untitled

 

what they wanted was to fill their vein with the hearts of a humble, a holy family

angels of death and severed emotions

in every way they were hell they saw it

each side was the sacrifice

 

 

- vanessa eck