To my brother Thai

 

You, father of four, the fourth oldest in the clan

Died of AIDS smoldering your body organs.

That night you slept under guava trees

On a bamboo bed beneath the stars filled sky.

Your brother feared that you would infect his children

If he let you inside his thatched house. 

Instead, he put you outside to die in your loneliness

filled with yearnings and prayers for another chance to life. 

Your eyes stayed open for your children

and wife in America

as the army of AIDS rippled their attack

to push you away through your cold stiff feet.

The prostitutes you slept with were absorbed into this multiple disease.

Their bodies flood your brain with remorse for what you could have done,

like practicing self-control and monogamy or use a condom every time --

to never have sex in the dark, under the influence of alcohol and cigarettes.

 

We want you to stay to make us laugh --

To humor us amidst violence in this sad Cambodia

thickened by brushes of grieves and despair --

this death pruned land wanting blood as its rain for its thirst and desolation.

I miss your laughter, those brief months having you in my life.

 

Copyright © by Chath pierSath, 1999

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