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.