2015-2016, Poem

Send Me

Featured in the 2016 Spring Issue of Rambunctious

Send Me
Afua Addo, '16

Send me, send me
I shout as I wave my arms
frantically in the air, send me. I am 
a young boy, but why does it matter? 
All you need is a person that is willing 
to go. Well I am willing so send me. I 
will look death in the eyes, so that your 
child will be safe and call this place 
I will crawl through the thickness of
the mud and drink the tears of my
enemies to protect you and your little brothers
and sisters. I will cry out to the sky
until the clouds part ways so I can burn 
in the heat of the sun if it means that 
you will never have to. So your sons 
and daughters will never have to 
shade their eyes from the glorious 
sun rays because they are afraid 
of losing their sight. Is that not what 
you want? Someone who is willing 
to die for you so that you can live on? 
It's all about sacrifice. You want to give 
me the hope that I will escape from 
the jaws of death so that you
will never have to leave the comfort
of your beds. So that you will never have
to humble yourself in the dead of night to pray 
for a boy who will never return. Who are 
we fighting again? Perhaps, all that time 
raising my hand has distracted me. 
The blood has drained completely 
from my hand now and I no
longer remember why I raised it in the 
first place. Who are we fighting? The 
enemy? The war itself? Or the urge 
within ourselves to return to peace 
and tranquility. But why stop now, you 
say? Why should there be a ceasefire 
when we have become so good at
launching our missiles and driving our tanks? 
Look at our endurance! See how we have 
spent centuries of our history on the battlefield. 
We're professionals and we're proud of our 
accomplishments. We are proud of how easily we 
can rip men and women from the embraces of their 
families. They still smile and wait for tomorrow. But 
tomorrow is a day that I hope to wake up and see 
nothing, but light and smell nothing but the the fresh 
air that the birds so eloquently move around with 
the flutter of their wings. I hope I will never again have
to awake from my slumber to declare myself a 
sacrifice for people who are tired of war and for 
wars who are tired of people. I pray that 
tomorrow I will not have to wave my arm 
frantically in the air to say, "Send me, send me" 
because I am young and it does matter. 
One day there will be no need to look death in 
the eyes because death will have dwindled in its 
power. Only then will your child will be safe 
and call this place