Sleep little “chavalito” (child),
son of absent Nica,
lay your uncombed,
flea-bitten head,
on the cold cobble stone,
of a harsh and real apathy.

Shrivel your little feet,
and wounded,
exhausted of so much wondering,
lay still and snuggled,
in a corner,
of an indifferent Managua.

Sleep now,
and maybe tomorrow,
I’ll have time for you,
I swear am not insensitive,
am just too busy,
focusing on my errands,
my friends, my job,
my studies, my sports,
in today’s politics,
and tomorrows parties.

I know you’re one of my own,
but I don’t recognized you,
even, when your blood bacons me,
your uniqueness, begs my attention.

With my absence,
I steal your dignity, and mercy,
creativity, intelligence,
and innocence.

I walk by the streets,
and don’t see you,
you call me,
“Chelito”(white) can you give me a “peso”!,
or “am hungry, can you spare a Shilling!,
and I don’t hear you,
I turn around,
and purposely ignore you.

With my indifference,
I expose you to beg,
contributing to your invisibility,
insults, beatings and ill treatment,
to be hit by cars in the streets,
o rape by predatory men-beast.

Tourists come an awe,
overwhelmed by compassion,
they see you, tossed like trash,
they’re the only ones pitying you,
because you’re Nica and unlucky,
and they judge us,
by saying,
“In our country dogs live better”.

Dream my sweet heart,
for the morning to bring a kind soul,
full of compassion,
hope and comfort,
but most of all:
a handmade warm tortilla,
a plate of “gallopinto” (fry rise&beans),
with soft “cuajaditas” (soft cheese)
from La Paz Centro,
some fried plantains,
a hot “atolito” (warm native drink).

The day came,
when my heart,
finally hear your name,
and recognize my kin,
I ran out in to the streets,
to try to find you,
in the same corner,
where I always ignore you,
and they told me,
you weren’t there anymore.

Three days later,
they found you,
lifeless little body on a ditch,
with a knife on your back,
and a piece of bread in your hand,
and the voice I heard,
was your good bye.

~Rudyard Bonilla ♥

2009 copyright © derechos Reservados


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