THE GHETTO WITHIN

I know because I've been there,
     The ghetto of my soul.
The guns outside exploding,
     The world ends every year.

The sun it does not shine here,
     The wind it does not blow,
But out there babies cry
     And Mrs. Wilson hits the floor.

Mama hides her bottle
     In the back of her own loo,
And daddy takes to running
     When the creditors are due.

I don't know where I'm going
     'cause I don't know where I am,
And the battle has been brewing
     For a long time in my mind.

The walls are up around me
     And the walls are pretty tall,
And they glisten and they glitter
     Like a snail has painted all.

This ghetto has no guns;
     They're not necessary here,
The fireworks exploding
     Cause my soul to cringe in fear.

And fear it is a trigger
     That makes my bladder run,
And my bowels they turn to water
     When I hear my mother come.

Charley's been locked out again
     he's only nine or ten,
And the gruel that he's allowed to have
     Is grey and pretty thin.

The schools don't seem to notice,
     The family friends shut up,
The pastor turns his face away
     As he passes the Sacrament cup.

My folks they have some money,
     They're professionals that heal,
So nothing really happens here
     In this family group from hell.

Ghettos can be in cities
     Or in your children's souls;
The crack of guns outside
     Or the shot within their hearts.

My brother has passed on now,
      And may he rest in peace.
my soul can rest now also
     As I write this little piece.

Davalene Hirsch


Tomorrow we follow Tom as he sees the death camps for the first time and remembers the Nazi Holocaust that took away his life and the lives of all his family members.