Oh, displaced woman,
your haunting eyes follow me
as I walk through your camp.

Am I another pair of eyes
who has come to look,
to probe –and then just
walk away like so many others?

Your eyes question me.
Did I bring milk
to feed your baby?
Do we have seed to plant
when the rains begin?
Will I stay and be part
of your suffering?

I have no answers.
I only know that you have
taken hold of my heart,
and I will do what I can.