Look at how destruction looms
Casting its shadow of gloom
Works wrought by human hands
Firing mortars
On mere mortals
We are
Speechless

Avoiding ammunition
Flung haphazardly
We are
Searching for safety
And a means of survival

Greed has pervaded
The gun-toting factions
And hunger screams
Within our bodies

Running away from death
We have crouched
Close to the ground
With ears and mouths
Pressed close to the earth

You see,
Alive, we await the inevitable change
And hope for peace
Staying crouched
Close to the ground

Afraid and tearful, we are
Hurting.

© 2003 RM Harmon, Poetic Moves While Doctoring (Vols. I & II)

REFUGEE CAMP

dedicated to the Buduburam Liberian refugees in Ghana

Displaced people
In the midst of deprivation
Raise their voices high in jubilation
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound”

Like banyan trees
Sprouting branches of hope
Rooted deeply in the belief that goodness will prevail

Escaping civil unrest
Leaving tangibles behind
To settle here
Living piece by peace
Peacefully deprived

They have been named “refugees”
Distinguished from those born here
Similar in appearance
Struggling to be the melting pot

Their dwellings lie clustered
With areas of relief sometimes
Announced by the stench that drifts
Unwanted in the air

My people
Have lingered here and endured
With an unshakeable faith that eases the suffering
With ambitious plans and fantastical dreams that unify

With hopes of a future homecoming
With thoughts of never returning
Living day to day
Escaping civil unrest
Leaving tangibles behind

My people have lingered here and endured much
Through faith

© 2003 RM Harmon, from, Exchanging Pleasantries and Other Poems

FRUSTRATION

It’s not so simple:
We work side by side
Talk openly
Laugh loudly
And you assume
I’m always accorded the same rights
As you
I demand equality, as I should
While some call me
Angry
For insisting on
Respect
And open-mindedness
These discussions aren’t spoken
Often
Because
It frustrates—
The fact that some apply
Restrictions to my colored skin
Out of fear
Of the diversity
That is
The human race

© 2003 RM Harmon, from, Exchanging Pleasantries and Other Poems

ANCESTRAL CHANT

Come quickly; let me play the music
Step briskly, as we walk the lane
Come hear the drums of our ancestors
Beating history into our veins

Oh, for these songs have been our pillars
In times of strife and jubilee
When words could not be uttered
We listened so attentively

Come quickly; let me play the music
Step briskly, as we walk the lane
Come hear the drums of our ancestors
Beating history into our veins

Chant softly, words that have sustained us
Walk firmly, our goals we shall achieve
Dance boldly, ah swaying rhythmically

Let music help us to discover
The ancestral link, that, yet we seek

© 2003 RM Harmon, Poetic Moves While Doctoring, (Vols. I&II)