Wednesday, July 13, 2005

one last poem of mick's, because this says so much.


Rwanda


10 years old
with an AK 47
his tribe have killed their tribe
back and forth
across the frontline
that used to be a road
running between the villages
but now it's a frontier
littered with flyblown corpses
including those of his parents
the journalist asked him
" why are you a soldier?"
the kid didn't know
" i just am."

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