A piece of art

The land is tired.

The land is dry.

The rains failed,

You tell me.

You say,

We planted and worked the land,

But we had no harvest.

The rains ruined the harvest,

You say.

The same rains that you need 

For your crops to grow

Ruined your livelihood 

And stole your hope.

It is expensive,

  You tell me.

It is more expensive this year.

My money does not buy much,

you say.

All the prices keep rising.

We hate Mondays,

You say,

For that is when prices rise.

That is when we learn what we can no longer buy.

The prices keep rising,

You say.

Our salaries do not.

The prices keep rising,

you say

And our harvest keep failing.

There is no money for that,

You tell your children.

It is too expensive.

But your child does not seem to understand.

My husband left,

  You tell me.

He will return in three months.

Where did he go,

I ask.

To look for work.

There is no work in Nicaragua.

He went to Costa Rica.

Mine went to Panama.

Mine went to the States,

You tell me.

When will they return?

We do not know exactly,

You say.

My daughter left,

My son stopped school,

My mother does not live with us.

Where are they?

I ask.

They went to find work.

They went to find work that does not exist here.

But this should not be,

I say.

But it is what we must do.

We must do this to survive.

It is our only choice.

If we stay together

We cannot survive.

If we stay together

My children cannot go to school

My children cannot eat

We will be hungry.

Their money, although little,

Is what we need to survive

You tell me.

We have no other choice.

But this should not be,

I think.

Where are those who fight to change the situation?

I ask.

They are here,

But they do nothing.

They do not help their people.

THey have no desire to help us.

Their eyes are fixed on their pockets,

you tell me.

They get richer

As we suffer.

They get richer 

As their country is destroyed.