Somewhere in Jordan, I Think

They crowd around the woman with her microphone
And desert gear, a pair of pants with lots of pockets,
Polo shirt and Arab-style scarf, no longer on her
Head, but fashionably wrapped around her neck.
She marches with her camera crew as they, and
We, meet refugees: the businessmen in dusty
Versions of the clothes they always wear, a pair
Of slacks, a buttoned shirt, the women, wholly
Covered up, the dirty kids and crying babies.
We will watch the TV woman turn to tell us
What we know. These people lead unpleasant lives.
They're poor and have nowhere to go. They'll
Live within this camp for years, for life, perhaps.
What should we do? We note the names of
Charities which care for them, and tell ourselves
That we will write a check tomorrow. Then
We change the channel to a clean, domestic
Comedy, relieved to have the woman and
The crowd around her gone.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 25 times
Written on 2013-09-04 at 13:28

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