This is a poem I decided to write, late at night. I was thinking, ok, I can either watch a DVD, or write a poem for you. So I decided to write a poem. It's a bit surreal. The 25,000 figure may not be precise, but for some reason sticks in my mind as the number of children who die each day around the world from preventable diseases and the like.
I wonder sometimes if we may risk bringing judgment on ourselves, when we learn about poverty, and then don't try hard to help people lift themselves out of it (for example, by supporting organizations such as Opportunity International).
There's a reference in the poem to an ancient story about judgment, where people painted a red x on their door, and a death angel came through town, and spared those who had this mark on their door. Some people believe in angels, and that they also sometimes deliver judgment. So the poem is meant to be kind of a ghost story.
Update 9/1/09: recently the image of 25,000 kids has been coming back to me, but stretched over time - where you can recognize the past, and the lives that have needlessly passed into shadow, but where you can also make sure to be mindful of the kids who are still alive, and the hope that action can bring, such as attempts to bring education, like Sugar Labs, or Intel Teach. So it might be a kind of duality or paradox, like in physics - is light a wave or a particle? Are the 25,000 kids outside our door dead, or alive? And I think the answer might be decided by what we choose to do. Scary, yet amazing.25,000 Kids
I've got 25,000 kids
in a pile, outside my door
a stadium full of children
who won't sing anymore
But thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door
My powers are tremendous
my mind, of infinite strength
and I've been able to hold these dead kids
at an infinite arm's length
Sometimes the dust creeps out
from under the carpet
in a corner of my mind
I know I could, I should do more
But then I'd have to change my life
the amount I spend on things
do you have any idea of how much it costs
to live like a relative king?
I really hate guilt trips
so don't throw one on me, ok?
I have enough to deal with
how can one person make a difference anyway
Thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door
A motorcycle gang cruised by one time
"Apollyon's Angels", with their black leather jackets
their engines idling, a dark silent roar
moving so slowly, like a funeral choir
One of them saw me and gave me the chills
he wanted to paint an
X on my door
the next time they'd pass me over
if I chose to help the poor
But thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door
X
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