THROUGH MY EYES

 

 

I once asked my Dad,

Won't the Rwandan 1994 Tutsi Genocide awareness fade as time goes by?

As the generation who experienced the genocide firsthand gets older and starts dying out, won't it all fade?

But every year, it hits different,

my father's tears I get to see every April,

Keep me wondering what he felt like during it all.

The helplessness,

The pressure and hatred.

The confusion, living like an animal for survival.

The guilt that comes with only thinking of one's self

with no room to think of those dearest to us.

Deep down, I feel like I've been robbed 

Of something so important I didn't know existed.

Now that I understand, I'm stuck on what could have been.

I hope through my eyes, he gets to see how far he has come,

I hope through my eyes, he gets to see little imprints of our dearest in us, his children.