Mariel, my friend from Argentina remembers:
she remembers her classmates,
classmates who came to school with tears
in their eyes,
tears for their fathers who were gone,
(fathers who suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night;)
tears for their mothers who were alive,
alive trying to feed their children
fearing what would happen to them all.

Mariel, my friend from Argentina remembers
she remembers the next door neighbor,
the kind gray haired gentleman
who greeted her on the way to school.
Often he gave her some chocolate,
even fixed her brother's bicycle.
One day he was no longer there
no longer there to greet her,
no longer there to put that sweet piece of chocolate
in her hand.

Mariel, my friend from Argentina remembers,
she remembers her brother Horatio leaving home,
her brother sent to school in Georgia
to study photography where it was safe,
in America.
Horatio leaving in the middle of the night,
the plane ticket, his ticket to freedom.
Would she ever see her brother again?

Mariel, my friend from Argentina remembers,
she remembers her father at dinner:
"We will not speak of your brother Horatio.
we don't know where he has gone".
"We will not speak about our next door neighbor,"
"We will eat our dinner,
we will be silent,
we will be safe."



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