Flight From the New Sudan

FLIGHT FROM THE NEW SUDAN I see your tears there on your black face and what a face was it the tears? The crying for the child now dead from starvation? Or was it the tears for the one in your arms? The one who will die before the dawning of a new day. I see the children playing nearby they see your tears as I but life goes on as best it can and a hungry child must play, too. I see the beauty gone from your face, beauty stolen by time and hunger and fear and death and marching to nowhere and still the children play as if they have a hope or a dream hidden somewhere in their minds they watch the sky where green and black airplanes loaded with grain, and miracles from the medicinal gurus circle like so many buzzards with no place to land is this why the tears? Is this why the children play? but they are not coming this time, again. Or is it because you know I see your tears but do nothing? Again.