Juba
Fear echoes through the land
Leaving a trail of wails as it passes
The sounds of pain are deafening
The silent voices
Are absorbed in the rumble of boots and guns
The fields are soaked in blood
The roads are dotted with rotting flesh and dry bones
We are trapped in the web of the pandemonium
Our feet are weary from running to where they run away from
Our eyes are sore from looking beyond our dread
Our sanity crumbles under the weight of apprehension
Our hope for the light of the next day
Eludes us the way the sun eludes a dark afternoon
Our prayers return to us unanswered
But we pray
Again
In tired hope
That
One day
The sounds of pain will cease.
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