“MEANT TO PROTECT"

Peace would be a precious gift for those fighting since 1948.  Yet, that is but a dream when racial and religious tensions run deep. For years, the Burmese have dreamt of an ethnically unified nation.  This dream has incited them to genocide against minorities, like the Rohingya on the western border, and the Karen on the eastern.

The Karen people have fled attacks, running from one village to another, searching for peace.  When homes are attacked, those remaining are murdered by the military.  If those who survive dare return to bury their dead, they will die too.  

Hundreds of thousands have fled to Thailand, just over the river from home.  There though, as refugees, the Karen are unable to find work.  Their rights are limited.  They are often exploited by the protecting forces of the Thai military.

The stories the Karen tell are wrenching.  They are courageous to live, despite watching their family diminish and their homes burn to the ground.  As they tell of the jungle and crossing the river into Thailand, they become wistful, imagining the deep colors and thick air of home.  

The following poem is dedicated to the women who have survived.

"Meant to Protect"

The ear of a man meant to protectsears deeply into her memoryIllustrating fear with his touch.

His skin is beneath her nails,
Stolen from him in the struggle.
With a jerk, she falls into a fertile rice paddy.

Her grandmother was young when
night was nothing to be afraid of.
Now, troops stomped along mud trails
And pulled unsuspecting girls
Into the bushes.

Her sarong is torn in two,
leaving her legs exposed
to the moonlight.  Boots pound
away, but he is still inside her.

Her grandmother had never seen
her child’s body crumpled into itself
cheeks hollow from meals she couldn’t provide.

This is God, she thought.  
This is my punishment.
She stood, holding her skirt around her.
Quietly returning to the village, she washed herself,
Then climbed into a hammock
next to her brother’s.

Her grandmother never imagined
Being dragged from a clearing
by a brother who had the smell
Of a cooling corpse on his hands.

Morning crept through the hut,
Singing of another day.
With the sun approaching,
she tried to forget.

Her grandmother once said,
“Always trust the British.
They will save us,” as she
looked into a round mirror
Left by those very soldiers,
40 years ago.

Grandmother, do you remember everything?
Everything.  You can never forget.

Her grandmother would never accept
The life that grew in her now.

When she told him of the attack,
his fist balled around the machete
He’d had since fleeing his home.
The one that had failed to protect his sister.

If you would like more information about the Karen People, visit Karen.org or the Karen Human Rights Group website.