Internment+Camp+Poem

Beauty in the Desert

She stood still, watching, too aware of the sand and dust hitting the backs of her arms and her skirt billowing like a sail in a strong California sea breeze (like home) as the hot wind whipped the stench of horse manure into her face. She stood still, watching, as hundreds of people walked about, their sorrows vocal in English and Japanese, trying to make the dirt and creaky boards of a horse stall more bearable. She stood still, watching, As a hundred mouths opened wide and sang Handel’s “Messiah,” Their voices weaving and intertwining with the symphony Seeming to fill the big, starry, desert sky with strength and love. How could she stand leaving the warm California sun for the dusty Arizona horse tracks? How could she bear the taunts of “you dirty little Jap” through the fence? How were they able to make beauty in such a dry, lifeless desert? How did she survive and keep her hope alive?