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Two men alone with their wounds,
following footpaths in the tall grass
so as not to be seen
by militia.

Stealing pumpkins from farmed fields
chewing on grass stems to ease hunger
Listening to the sound of frogs
And followed to water.

On guard, always, at the pools
That is where they gathered
Learned how to submerge the body
With just a nose showing above water.

Hungry, thirsty, but mostly cold.
No clothes, forty-degrees F,  staying close,
To conserve body heat
While Hyena's and Leopards lurked.

Finding other refugees along the way
Comforted in the fact of comraderie
yet it was harder to move unseen with more bodies
and food became scarce like water.

The Kangen riverbed was barren
hot, hot sun
one adult amongst boys
The Lost Boys of the Sudan.

Finding muddy pools of water, they ate the mud
Just for the moisture, easing the pain
Tongues swollen, skin grey
No voices.

Utilizing everything, they drank their own urine.
Singing Christian songs
Asking God for water
he gave them vulture-ridden bodies along-side a swamp.

A swamp!  drank and drank
found tortoises and roasted them with grasshoppers
First protein eaten in so long,
sat in those marshes and tried to regain strength.

Crossed the Gilo, eyeballing the crocs eyeballing them
Dodging bullets from Ethiopian rebels
some lived.
Six months of starvation to reach Kenya.

There are camps along and throughout
Eastern Africa
And in each one, Death reigns 
as the new and forever King of the Motherland.

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