March 24, 2009
By Anonymous

Returning to the land of my parents
I embark from the safety of my home
Into the ubiquitous dark of the unknown,
To learn who I am and what I come from.

The streets smell of omnipresent filth,
And are littered with the unemployed,
The huddled masses of the tired and poor
People of the impoverished city.

I take up a job at a public school
And though I have no training,
Though I am as ignorant as my students
Of how to complete such a task, I teach English.

I rest in a barren apartment,
Rented to me by the family who owns it.
This world is as alien to me
As if I were on another planet.

The population of 500 native people
I share this town with
Have very few luxuries we have at home;
They are amazed by the simple things I have.

The people now after decades of oppression
And lies, know the poverty they live in,
And it seems in this world we live in
Ignorance is bliss.

My time here is coming to an end,
And I prepare like the nomad to move on,
To travel were I may throughout
These millennium standing countries.

I take with me a hope that one day
I can make a difference in others lives.
That I can help all people,
Those of this land, and those back home.

I depart with a cleared mind;
A disillusioned view of the world as it is,
And I promise to myself
I will do something to change this.

The author's comments:
Told from the point of view of one of my relative's as a Peace Corp worker.

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