Through Waters

by Sandra Herbert

They feed me
these grains of rice that nourish my body
and give rise to beliefs
that children's hands should pluck through waters
shielding eyes from the whipping sun
and I slather this meal with butter
forgetting the mud huts and grassy plains
babies suckling at breasts with no milk
and no hope
Ah, but the hope to one day grow up crooked
hungry, uneducated, unholy, unhopeful
plucking through waters