The Dead Hand

( Since 1987, a group of Ugandan military rebels, called the Lords Resistance army has been kidnapping, raping and torturing Ugandan children.At Night, these children are forced to leave their villages and walk for miles to safe cages, in hopes that they won't be take by the LRA...They have been dubbed The Night Walkers.This is my response to them...) Everything I see leaves a mark on my soul And it is with this bleeding heart that I suffer with you I am there when the nights are long and weary Watching the devils pour out of the darkness To take you sons and rape your daughters I am there to wait for the smoke to clear long enough to survey the wreckage The Horrors not meant to burden the human soul And I am there to feel the fires To count in silent despair To cover the bodies Your husbands Your brothers The tiny hands of a wasted nation Knowing that there are enough tears within us all to soak the cracked earth upon which you stand, to wash away the dirt and ages from a million hardened faces and fill the hollow pits of swollen stomachs But you are the forgotten ones Alone in your grief And for that I am sorry So instead I lay my heart next to yours and watch as the army of faceless monsters march your babies into darkness Forced to kill their fathers and brothers Raping the bodies of their sisters and mothers Waiting in bated frustration as the dead hand of abhorration is laid across the forheads of your young And even now I stand beside you Shaking my fist at an unrelenting sky Screaming into the deaf ears of a world devoid of humanity Crying away your forgotten sorrows It is with this bleeding heart that I call out but there is no answer