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
Copyright © Jessica Melancon | Year Posted 2006
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