MY BROKEN LAND
The land has been picked clean by vultures always on the prowl.
All had a hand in the razing, although innocence they feign.
Blaming the poor predicaments on ineffective governments,
In a veiled attempt at absolution, they try to deny culpability.
Its bareness offends them, but they do not go away.
“The poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere,” they lament.
In lying compassion that cannot hide the contempt,
And the scorn is so readily apparent that it reeks of hypocrisy.
Animated by an insane desire to bring the nation to its knees,
To punish it for past defiance to arbitrary rules set by greedy men,
Beloved Haiti, how often shall you succumb and stand naked,
While your own sons and daughters help tear you apart?
Forever made accomplices to your sufferings, some stand idly by,
Hoping vainly that when the dust has settled and justice is restored,
You will ultimately be vindicated, oh a sadly mistaken notion.
For your fate had already been sealed countless generations past.
author: Camila (Gladys Bruno)