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A Lullaby for Mark

Fr. Amado L. Picardal



Sleep, poor Mark, sleep

may you dream your father's dream.


He will never hold you in his arms

he never saw you, you'll never see his face.

He was gone before you could see

the tears in my eyes.


No, your father did not go to Saudi.

No, he did not run off with another woman

he just disappeared into the hills and forests.


There's no use waiting for your father, son

he can't come home anymore.

He has disappeared  into the belly of the earth

somewhere in the countryside

beheaded by the monsters in uniform.


Someday,  when you are old enough

you will understand

why your father had to leave us.

It was not that he did not love us,

he loved you and me and the millions of people

victimized by this diabolical system.

Like many he had a dream

that this unbearable reality will be changed.


Someday,  when this nightmare will be over

when these monsters and their alien masters

will disappear from the land,

when terror and hunger will only be a distant memory

it will no longer be necessary

for you to leave your pregnant wife

and disappear  into the hills and forest

to fight the monsters that rule our land.


Sleep, dear child, sleep

may your father's dream become your reality