roya movafegh
W 129th Street
'our children'

what sweet
and angry eyes
you have
my child

ready to burst
ready to fight
to love..

attention span
at a minimum
for our child's
last meal was
her mother's pain
served on a dish

his father is all
he thinks about
about the long hours
he passes
locked away in a room
away from theirs

she goes to school
and guesses the words on her page
she smiles at me
and tells me about her dream
to go to college

our child
won't read
we need to get through
your history book
I tell her
whose history? she says,
not mine.
page after page
she turns and asks me
where are my people?
I look and say nothing
--at first.
she agrees to read
so she can finish the grade and the next and the next
so she can write her story
re-write history..