Souvenirs for My Daughters


Devadas (angels)

Each day before night leaves
as we’re herded into the fields, we pray
to last,
to endure Angka’s lashes,
in the course of his rage.
When night’s darkness arrives, again we pray
to last,
to be spared
to breathe and to see the sun-
rise again.

Then, countless times, we give in.
Our wretched souls ask to leave,
to be taken away to the world beyond,
where pain ceases to exist.

back | next

table of contents



© 2010 Khmer Institute. All rights reserved.