A Poem From Uganda

When I Cried

our brown and all too-white Pajero
bumped and chortled along the dust vein roads
of Uganda
my grainy moist eyes
stared unknowing like fresh rabbits
in moonlight
until the girl
in the dirty lemon dress
solidly barefoot
turned.

casting
ambivalent breathtaking dark
eyes into my unrest
unsettling all my confidence
speaking for the orphans
I had walked among
and carried
like Jesus
without divinity
and helpless
as I helped them down
the mountainside
back to banana
leaf homes