Hope is a bag of onions

I am praying for Myanmar and I am crying,
then I open my Australian newspaper
and an article by “Anonymous”
tells me about new creative protest.

Some is by Generation Z surely,
those who do not remember
the horrific violence of 1988 or 2007,
but know they do not want
the coup to succeed.
The generation of “pop up” and “work around,”
is joined also by many others.

Every night is the “metal bucket protest,”
fifteen minutes of banging pots and pans.
Too short to pinpoint the homes,
and too traditional,
after all, it is
the way to drive out evil spirits.

Ten cars stop in the road, open their hoods,
tell police they’ve broken down –
traffic grinds to a halt.
A bride in a wedding dress  
holds a sign telling the world
she doesn’t want her babies
to grow up under martial law.

And students cross the streets
with bags of onions,
except there are holes in the bags.

Cars stop,
while they pick up and bag again,
pick up and bag again –
onions, the same ones,
over and over again.

I am praying for Myanmar
in the midst of this terrible coup,
and my heart fills
with their tremendous courage –
today these onions do not make me cry.

(I am always so grateful for the insights of “Eureka Street”
a publication of Jesuit Communications Australia)