I wrote this poem last week after watching on DVD the film "Shooting Dogs". Maltese-Australian novelist Lou Drofenik described it as graphic and sad; graphic in the sense that the descriptions in the poem are very vivid, a bit "In your face". "And war being war, that's what they ought to be, not some prissy metaphor covering the truth. Yes the truth of war is graphic and horrible."
RWANDA 1994
Corpses drop from the sky like black ash
and fill the orphaned roads with death.
Roots feed on human blood
dogs feast on human flesh
brothers cut brothers with machetes
no need for guns
butchers butcher human meat
drums beat beat beat…
They cheer and sing and wave their
arms armed with death once more
They wait in fear for their hour to come
some pray, others in despair…
Africa!
Famine, Aids and sickness
are not enough
to kill your children.
Civil war and genocide are there to
guarantee humiliation for all…
Tears not ink, blood not love,
hate not life, arms not bread,
dirt not grass, beast not man,
death not hope…
Thank God we’re miles apart
Thank God we’re not like them (is that so?)
Thank God we’re so pissed up with routine…
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