From Duvalier to Down the Road,
Port-au-Prince lies ruined and ripped off,
Blood and bones, bandages and gore,
Steeped in slavery and violence and more.
The tontons macoute did not cause this much pain.
Medicines and money are flowing wildly now,
But foreign aiders, no more than foreign raiders,
Will heal these wounds.
Search dogs won't find the dead children
Who will die of dysentery next year;
Water will not quench this thirst.
Doctors Without Borders, without a cause
Other than survival, soldier on in the stifling heat.
Haiti burns in 2010,
It was that way in 1910, and 1810.
The slaves will not go quietly back to their slave quarters;
One by one, immutable and free, they seek food, search for shelter,
Fighting over rolls of carpets and toasters.