Haiti

I just got back from an incredible trip to Haiti with some of my family and youth group where we connected with a friend of ours who is a long-term missionary there. We organized a Bible camp for the kids and painted the mission house where we stayed. A group of nurses for New York came down at the same time as us and set up a clinic for the Haitian children. Overall, it was an incredible time seeing children I hadn't seen since I was there nearly three years, growing in my faith, and bonding with my youth group. I made several attempts to capture the experience in poetry, all of which failed. These are two that came closest.


To a Haitian Child 3/15/2011
If I had the world
would I give it to your heart
that loves your family more that gold
and country more than birth?

If I had the world
would I put it in your hands
that know that feel of want and dirt
better far than frigid, metal coins?

If I had the world
would I teach it to your mind
that you might think that
lies come easier than death?

If I had the world
would I give it to your belly
groaning for stones no longer stones
and bread no longer bread?

If I had the world
would I give it to you?
And
I have the world
to you.


Reflections on My Trip To Haiti 3/17/2011
They tell you not to drink the water.
It might affect you.
It might get down in your veins,
make you sick with a fever,
take your breath away.

So I drank from a bottle of water clean as home.

I drank from a bottle as I ran
with barefoot children
playing soccer.

I drank from a bottle as I asked
the name of every child
begging in the streets.

I drank from a bottle as I talked
with Mackensie caring for orphaned siblings and
going to school.

I drank from a bottle as I looked
at the boy with white lumps on his head
smiling from the street.

I drank from a bottle as I played
Simon Says with thirty dirty children
bouncing in glee.

If you go to Haiti, drink the water.
It might affect you.
It might get down in your heart,
make you sick with compassion,
take your breath away.