Please do not cheer for me.

I am happy now, with my adoptive family

here in America.

They say I am a good swimmer, so

I swim for my school team.

But when they cheer for me,

the rafters ring, my ears hurt,

the noise gets into my head.

Before I left my country,

before my new parents rescued me,

I saw soldiers cut open

a pregnant woman’s stomach,

as though it were a ripe melon,

after betting on the sex of the baby.

The ones who won the bet were cheering.

Then they cut off the baby’s arms and legs

and left them both to die.

I saw soldiers run over my father with a truck,

then do it again, and again, and again,

till his body was a limp red rag.

Each time, the soldiers cheered.

So be proud of me, be happy for me,

smile and laugh when I win.

But do not cheer for me.

Please, do not ever cheer.

08/24/2003

Posted on 08/24/2003
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt