Dizzy and covered with dirt and sweat,
The Haitian grandmother does not give up
Au contraire, she is thinking about her next move
She wants to dig with her bare hands
She wants to cry, but there is no time
There is so much work to be done
Her neighbors are still entombed in their own homes
The Haitian grandmother is thinking about her grandchildren
Some of them are beneath her feet
She has to summon her courage to cry for help and rescue
Other grandkids are far away.
The Haitian grandma is like a bamboo flattened by the monsoons
She is like a coconut tree whose trunk is bent by the hurricane forces
She gets twisted by life's ups and lows,
Yet she recovers and is full of joy again
Haiti's history flashes back in her memory
The Haitian grandma survived Papa Doc, Baby Doc and the Tonton Macoutes
She survived the Zenglendo and the fast and furious gang members
Surrounded by devastation, the Haitian grandma will rise again
She will look for her family members just like a mother hen, her chicks
Scared by a the nearby hawks of tumultuos weather patterns
A witness to history, she is the queen of the Haitian household
Her gaze will motivate all of us to focus on the future and rebuilding.
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