a child's cry

"A tale of mine
I'd like to tell
of how my life turned from bliss to hell

In the midst of Phnom Penh
we lived happily
All nine of us, a blissful family
When
Into the city the Khmer Rouge conquered
and
To the outskirts we were relocated

From our homes we were stripped bare
To out horror the sufferings did not end there
From the moment we were evacuated
my entire family were separated
Where my family members went I did not know
to a children's camp I was forced to go

Working in the rice fields
From daylight to moonlight
the only comfort I had
was a younger sister by my side

Watery porridge twice a day was all I had
To a famished nine-year old I was barely fed
Frogs, spiders, crickets, beetles
What I caught; what I ate
Disgusting as it seemed
those sustained my life to this date

My wee sister, at an age so young and tender
creepies and crawlies; she was unable to capture
She begged and plead a bite from me
but in such adversity; I had to be stingy

It was often that I ate in secrecy
Yes, I knew that was mean of me
but I barely had enough to survive,
How was I to sustain another life?

Day by day she became thinner
Till starvation got the better of her
We were in line receiving dinner
when suddenly she fell
and dropped the precious bowl of rice water

Frantically, she stooped and scooped
but tell me, how do you gather
with bare hands, a bowl of water?

Helpless, she began to wail
but that was to no avail
for no matter how we begged
A second helping we did not get

Ravenous, helpless
I coaxed my sister
summoning all my energy
I carried her to bed,
with hope that tomorrow would be better

That night she did not sleep
but rambled on in incessant chatter
of our siblings, father and mother
of how life used to be better
of how did she often wonder
when she would see them in the future

When dawn broke
I gently shook her
but her little figure
remained still
her expression tranquil

I called out again to her
whispered in her ear
to get her awake i was eager
for the fear, of the soldiers
who would not hesitate
to whip those who lazed in bed

yet motionless she laid
upon our rattan bed
a soldier came up
and told me not to bother
for my sister would be sleeping forever

Young as I was
It was not till years later
that I understood
that to see again I would never
my little sister

the war has long passed
but scars still linger
my eyes still water
whenever my mind would wander
off to the memory of my dear little sister"

[Phal-POW, 6th June 2008]