Sunday, July 31, 2011

Poem: The Nobodies

We are not, but could be.
We don't speak languages, but dialects.
We don't have religions, but superstitions.
We don't create art, but handicrafts.
We don't have culture, but folklore.
We are not human beings, but human resources.
We do not have faces, but arms.
We do not have names, but numbers.
We do not appear in the history of the world,
     but in the police blotter of the local papers.
The nobodies, who are not worth the bullets that kill them.

Eduardo Galeano, The Book of Embraces
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4 comments:

  1. claire bangasserJuly 31, 2011 at 7:43 AM

    Wow, this is quite a poem! Now I have to find about the author. Thank you.

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  2. John Predmore, S.J.July 31, 2011 at 10:51 AM

    Yes, I ought to look up his book and read more into his biography.

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  3. Blue Eyed EnnisJuly 31, 2011 at 12:39 PM

    Terrific poem- it really burns into the shadows of the past colonialism, and the worst aspects of dictatorships and repressive regimes of power and abuse that litter man's history- all the injustices are here - it's so well crafted to get it all in such a small space.
    Thanks. This is is a real gift- Like you I need to find out more about this writer !

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  4. John Predmore, S.J.August 1, 2011 at 3:41 PM

    You have said it very well, too.

    ReplyDelete