Gold in No Man’s Land

I shut my eyes and remember

The sweet taste of nectar - gold - dripping between my brown lips

And blackened fingers

Which I wipe on my dingy shirt.

My ragged flip flops, red and gray,

Worn away by days under the scorching sun,

Picking through hills of smoldering trash

Against a solid blue sky,

So clear, I can almost see God waving.

He gives me blessings, I say,

As I survey

Heaps of broken treasures and discarded wants.

We may not mean anything to anyone,

We, the poor, the meek,

With flimsy rust colored homes built on dirt

But we are fortified with love and sweat from years

Of trying to escape this life.

We are not much to many

But we are so much to each other.

We - the invisible, the living shadows

Who cross plains of destitution -

Are each other’s home, comfort and wealth.

We do not have much

But don’t let this lack define your future,

My child.

I promise to give you all I have,

And all that I will muster.

In this moment, as I hand you this slice of mango - sweet, juicy and ripe -

I will conquer these gray mountains

To give you happiness, love, future, possibility, fortuity, blessings, riches.

Gold.