Arn’s Last Brother

September 21, 1998

 By Chath pierSath

News of his brother killed reach him today.

Arn doesn’t know what to do or say, whether he should

Cry or scream. The dead man was his last brother, one among

Many men in his family to make a widow of his wife.

 

They say that his brother was only trying to stop a fight.

He was the Samaritan who wanted others to make peace.

But the moment his back was turned, a trigger was pulled,

And he was the target.

 

Arn can’t feel a thing because it was too close to his heart.

Death is easier said than life.

 

It’s one of those things Cambodians know too well.

While laughter dwells within those who escaped the war

And violence, sadness plagues their relatives back home.

 

News of a sick brother and sister, a frail mother fighting to

Stay alive so she could see her children. One death here and one there,

From the distance our tears keep running down.

 

There’s never enough money to send for a funeral.

Every funeral is like a party, with its ceremonial process of remorse,

Act of missing, act of joy dancing for the dead being freed of pain and suffering.

 

The tormented sky, the toxic sharp eyes, the fire of hatred takes life for a joke.

 

The savage rawness of every kill expresses the animal in all of us. 

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