The Collected Poems of Ai by AI

Author:AI
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company

RWANDA

My neighbor used to come to our hut,

bringing melons so sweet

I thought I should not eat them,

because I would die

and haunt my family like a ghost

with hard, black seeds for eyes.

One day, he brought his uncle and two friends

and they asked my father to go outside with them.

I thought he had come to get permission to marry me

and I was glad because I loved him,

even though he wasn’t a member of my tribe,

nor as educated as I was.

I wanted to stay,

but my mother gave me a basket of clothes

to wash at the river.

She said, “Don’t come back,

until they are as clean as the Virgin Mary’s soul.”

“Mother,” I said, “I’ll never come back then.”

“Shall I take my brother?” I asked,

as he ran to my father’s side.

I was laughing, when she hissed, “Run,”

and I did because she frightened me.

As I rounded the hut,

I heard the tat, tat, tat, from guns

like the ones the soldiers carry.

I ran faster, still holding the basket.

It was frozen to my hands

and I still held it, even as I jumped in the river.

I thought I would die, so I closed my eyes.

When something bumped against me,

I opened them and saw my father’s body.

As he floated past me,

his arm hooked around my neck,

almost taking me under

and I released the basket.

I reached for my father, as bullets hit the water

and I dove under him.

His body shielded me, until I couldn’t breathe

and had to break the surface for air.

When I crawled onto the riverbank,

I hid in the grass behind the church.

Finally, when I was sure no one was around,

I beat on the rectory door,

until the priest opened it. “Hide me, Father,” I begged.

Once inside, I was overjoyed to see my mother.

She told me when my neighbor shot at her,

she pretended to be dead

and while he dumped my father in the river,

she escaped and came here,

hoping I had survived.

She said we needed another place to hide,

but she could only find a small closet-size space

behind the altar, covered by a sheet of tin.

Only one of us could fit, so she made me go in

and covered the hole again.

When I heard screaming, I kicked the tin aside

and saw my mother was on fire.

I tried to help her, using only my hands,

but when she was completely covered in flames,

I broke a stained-glass window

with a statue of Saint Joseph and climbed out.

As I crawled back to the river,

a shiver of wind passed over me

through the grass and trees.

When I stopped to rest,

fear coiled around me like a snake,

but when I told myself I would not let them kill me,

it took the shape of a bird and flew away.

I crawled back to the church,

because I wanted to find my mother’s ashes,

so I could bury them,

but my way was blocked by the rebels,

so I waited until dark.

Maybe I slept. I don’t know.

When I heard my neighbor’s voice,

it was as if I had awakened from a dream.

Relief flooded over me, until I sat up

and saw him standing above me, holding a machete.

“Sister,” he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

I knew

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