Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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Grease My Palm

I stood there helpless not knowing what to do as the crowd began to swell and the message began to spread. I found myself in a crowded place and strange people running all over the place group together and going on a mission to kill the devil. They were armed with long hunter’s rifle, pick axe, sticks and stone and base ball bats, dressed in black and white suites and felt hats and long beard sticking out below their chin. The angry mob descend down the street chanting hateful words that stir dust in the street, and somewhere  in the corner the victims  of the intended assault kneel quietly in the dark praying to Allah for mercy. They were the fathers and grandfather of the village men whose sons have gone into the city to fight with the mercenaries and return once in a while to eat and share their success with wine, the mob was going there but the grand fathers and fathers were unaware, they could feel the tension but they could not tell where it was coming from. The children were out playing in the yard and the women were out in the field gathering wheat and the men were bundle up in the village mosque across the street chanting the afternoon prayer. The mob landed in the village, and the children began to run in all direction calling their mama and papa but they were not there, and shots began to fire and little bodies fell in the street and cries rise above the hill and the universe felt the chill. Blood gushes out of their head and innocent souls lie in the street dead and the birds cover them with their wings. They descended later in the mosque and in seconds another massacre began. The men had nothing to defend themselves so they had to take the bullets in their heads and lie on top of the dead and pretend too, to be dead, and just when I thought it was over the mob marched into fields to get the women but they were no match for them, they were all arm with pistol and they fought it out in the fields before the grease palmer arrived to end the bloody sacrifice. A few women got bullet graze but none of the women were killed, the mob accepted the offer and quickly left the place. The mercenaries were out of town but their children and parents were homeward bound and the village was stained with blood.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2024

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