Care by Craig Santos Perez

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend May 11, 2016   Care   Craig Santos Perez

My 16-month old daughter wakes from her nap and cries. I pick her up, press her against my chest   and rub her back until my palm warms like an old family quilt. “Daddy’s here, daddy’s here,”   I whisper. Here is the island of Oʻahu, 8,500 miles from Syria. But what if Pacific trade winds suddenly   became helicopters? Flames, nails, and shrapnel indiscriminately barreling towards us? What if shadows   cast against our windows aren’t plumeria tree branches, but soldiers and terrorists marching   in heat? Would we reach the desperate boats of the Mediterranean in time? If we did, could I straighten   my legs into a mast, balanced against the pull and drift of the current? “Daddy’s here, daddy’s here,” I   whisper. But am I strong enough to carry her across the razor wires of sovereign borders and ethnic   hatred? Am I strong enough to plead: “please, help us, please, just let us pass, please, we aren’t   suicide bombs.” Am I strong enough to keep walking even after my feet crack like Halaby pepper fields after   five years of drought, after this drought of humanity. Trains and buses rock back and forth to detention centers.   Yet what if we didn’t make landfall? What if here capsized? Could you inflate your body into a buoy   to hold your child above rising waters? “Daddy’s here, daddy’s here,” I whisper. Drowning is   the last lullaby of the sea. I lay my daughter onto bed, her breath finally as calm as low tide.   To all the parents who brave the crossing: you and your children matter. I hope your love will teach the nations   that emit the most carbon and violence that they should, instead, remit the most compassion. I hope, soon,   the only difference between a legal refugee and an illegal migrant will be how willing   we are to open our homes, offer refuge, and carry each other towards the horizon of care.            Copyright © 2016 Craig Santos Perez. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   “This poem was written as a response to the ongoing refugee crisis and to anti-refugee sentiment that surfaced in Hawaii last year. While this poem specifically addresses refugees from Syria, it is also written in solidarity with refugees from Africa, the Americas, Asia, and the Pacific, who are being displaced by war, violence, poverty, and climate change.” —Craig Santos Perez   Craig Santos Perez is the author of from unincorporated territory [guma'] (Omnidawn Publishing, 2016). He teaches at the University of Hawaii, Mānoa, and lives in Honolulu, Hawaii. Poetry by Santos Perez   from unincorporated territory [guma'] (Omnidawn Publishing, 2016) "Persistence of Vision: Televised Confession" by Solmaz Sharif "Endtime" by Anne Waldman "Alternate Self-Portrait" by Dean Rader Poem-a-Day   Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038