(Photo credit Pinterest)
Today's poem is based on the images and news of violence in Central African Republic. I am not sure what else to say other than it is hard to read about this and believe it is real, that it is not make-believe -- a horror movie, or bad dream. For some, this is life.
when you
when you are not afraid to kill a man
in broad daylight
cameras looming
balking at leave no trace
when you will not be punished for death,
words come out worse than fools
bloody
bastard
edit them out
when you drag him out to pasture
like an old race horse whose time is done
useless now to the men who sit and smoke imported cigars
useless now that he cannot run the way he could
useless now because he talks to the people who won't talk back
when you touch his hoofs
they are smooth in the wrong places,
too flat to make a difference
something should be done with this one
when you see the man's boots are bloodied
and that no amount of grass rubbing or soap will ever take that away
the color will fade, but never disappear
the smell will linger,
like a skunk who sprays and then laughs in your face
take that!
long after I'm gone
you took my body
but my scent lingers on
you are the bastard
when you see his body has been hacked into pieces
there is always a first time
for seeing a man's brains
lying outside of his head
this is the hardest one
you beg for there to be no more
when you lie awake in fear
there are no nightmares
because there is no sleep
you cannot dream or weep
when you are left in villages
to fend for yourselves
while neighborhoods are emptied and destroyed
there is no escape.
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