I see their faces on the television
Blank staring eyes, heavy with disillusionment
Warring with themselves not to hope too hard,
because disappointment hurts so bad.
I hear their stories, and I wonder who these people are.
How can one person survive so much?
I go to school, and I whine because I have too much homework.
She buried her father last year, her brother yesterday, her sister tomorrow, and probably her mother next year.
She prays for food for tomorrow’s meal, so her little sister will have enough strength to help them scavenge for food.
She prays for an education, even if it’s not past 6th grade, because an education is the one thing that can maybe save her, if anything can.
I whine about how expensive my new sweater was, and which brand of runners should I buy - Sketchers or Nike?
She worries about disease and poverty and hunger, while I barter over a new pair of earings at Claire’s.
I go home, flick the channels, and the faces pop up. I flick past, keep flicking, nothing’s on and I end up back at the faces.
And I turn off the tv, and go try on my new sweater.
