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