Oh to be in Africa, now the French are here by David Hensley

In the darkness

far from light

no longer frightened

of a fight

the boy crouched under dry ferns

listening for the rain that burns

and the murderous choppers

the vandal shoppers

the smiling traitors

the alligators


Easy blood to spill

is the blood you know

if another’s hand wields the blade

tis quiet now

a night away from the village that was

the friendly faces

now nailed to fence posts

the rooting corn untended

the rotting limbs uneaten

by the dead dogs


(lines originally written on the 1994 Rwandan tragedy, scenes sadly repeated across the continent in Congo, Sudan, and other places where the international community has failed to help the local communities)


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