through the midnight raids, she stumbles upon UN aids
tears roll down her eyes, all this news reporter can see is
a victim of a genocide.
all i can hear are her cries..................can you hear them?
clothing herself with just the sunlight as uv rays beats against
her oiled skin, an off spring lay within.
another dead wrapped in her linen
her grief is unknown to me so all that I have to offer
is sympathy, all that I have are a pair of ears
so I asked, can you share your story with me?
through a translator, I learned she was born of a
Nuba lineage residing in Dafur, lived just like me
she had a spouse, she had a family.
she lamented stories of travelling distances
through blistering daytime heat and fridgit nights
thanking Allah's might that she escaped the janjaweed
with at least one seed. telling ME as tears roll down MY
eyes arise
I awoke from this vision but could not deviate from its illusions,
many are dying in Sudan. many have died as we cry daily about
cost of living when all they care about is LIVING!!!!!
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