Chiriquí Chatter

By Don Ray Williams
October 18, 2006

The other day, I was sitting with a child upon my knee,
What was running through his mind was a mystery to me.

His eyes seemed to search for answers floating in the air,
To questions in his mind, of which only he was aware.

Finally he said “Why do some people find such joy in running others down?”
I could see him struggle with this thought, for his forehead bore a frown.

He was extremely troubled, this I could clearly see.
I was stumped and could only answer; “It is a mystery to me.”

“What’s the fun of being mean and being rude?” he said seriously.
How could he be so wise for one so young? This was a mystery to me.

“Why must they always ridicule what other people have?”
“Why do they cut them with their words and fill the cuts with salt not salve?”

“I just don’t understand, can you help me please, to see?”
All I could say was “I wish I could, but it’s a mystery to me.”

“My mommy tells me not to lie, but I know others do.”
“Did their mommy not tell them, like mine told me and yours told you?”

“I saw on TV, school children being shot by someone they never knew?”
“Why were their lives taken?” “What good did it do?”

“Why do people get killed for the color of their skin?”
“Why do others get killed for a difference in religion?”

“I know that I am young,” he said as he became teary eyed,
“But I just don’t understand what good can come, cause all those people died.”

I struggled for an answer, as he looked so hopefully up at me,
But all I could say was “It’s a mystery to me.”

I hope others like him are sitting on knees,
And asking questions like he’s been asking me.

The future of the world, it’s very clear to see,
Rests with the young like him. That’s no mystery to me.

Tags: Poems