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Parcel
Paris, July 28th, 2001
The Postal Office
I was a teacher.
I write this using the images we are familiar with
But it remains true, wherever you place your hart.
I had a dream
I was in the Huge Superior Parcel Office
I could see parcels piling up to the roof
Sheds after shed of piled up parcels
I asked the supervisor to explain this
He looked very sad
He told me
<< we receive so many order
<< we acceed to all the orders
<< indeed many of the parcels have been prepared
<< before the order was placed
<< and most of the custumors
<< never bother to collect their good.
I assume that you have experienced pain and suffering
I assume that you have said
<< main pain I can accept
<< the pain of my child, of my mother I cannot accept
<< please help me !!!
And look around you
Look at those praying
Have you ever seen anyone bothering to collect the parcel he ordered?
To be more down to earth
I have seen parents requesting that their child be helped with mathematics
But never bothering to collect the help.
When I was working as an agronomist in Africa
Using you tax money to save lifes
And much will be forgiven in your life
As you do not even know how many lives you have saved
Through your labor, your taxes
Well I have been working as an agronomist in Africa
And one of the best hidden secrets
Is that the funds available for development
Are not spent.
They are spent a bit, a big bit,
But a major problem is
<< how to spend the budget?>>
The answer being
That those who need the funds
Do not know that the funds are available
Those who have thhe funds
Do not know the ones needing the funds
Those linking the donor and the recipient
Myself
Are so overworked that we cannot manage
But it does not matter
How many of us can say they have saved a life?
You did, as you paid your taxes.
I was your hand
As an agronomist in Africa
I have seen mountains raising in front of us
And as we were advancing the mountains would decrease, decrease
And the seeds were reaching the farmers
But if we had not walked, the mountains would have remained.
As a son of an Alzheimer mother
I admit to my shame
That in spite of all my experience
I cannot accept
Neither to ask for a parcel
Nor to collect it.
The man in anger will starve in a maize field.
Nils Stalbrand
taberg40@aol.com