This was written shortly following the artist's fifteenth birthday, inspired by the pain of genocide. in the original printing, no title is given, and the first line is in bold print.
in the dark of the night, the torches came.
the madness, and terror, and people screaming
the men with their fire burned the poor and the lame
as we fled, we heard them yell, “An ethnic cleansing!”
they killed my mother and lamed my sire
the deaths of my children are on their heads.
my sister was scorched by their terrible fire
my youngest children burnt as they slept in their beds
my husband is missing; they can’t find his remains
we ran in the dark of the night
with the roaring of fire, the wailing of pain,
we ran with their fire as our only guiding light.
you call it a holocaust, you call it a tragedy
but no words can express its horror
the men came with their fire and mangled my family
their guns, they shot open our locked door.
the rape of a nation, fallen and bare
we heard it in the screams of the night
young children, old men, cried out in terror
we ran with their fire as our only guiding light
the madness, and terror, and people screaming
the men with their fire burned the poor and the lame
as we fled, we heard them yell, “An ethnic cleansing!”
they killed my mother and lamed my sire
the deaths of my children are on their heads.
my sister was scorched by their terrible fire
my youngest children burnt as they slept in their beds
my husband is missing; they can’t find his remains
we ran in the dark of the night
with the roaring of fire, the wailing of pain,
we ran with their fire as our only guiding light.
you call it a holocaust, you call it a tragedy
but no words can express its horror
the men came with their fire and mangled my family
their guns, they shot open our locked door.
the rape of a nation, fallen and bare
we heard it in the screams of the night
young children, old men, cried out in terror
we ran with their fire as our only guiding light
Contributed by Marie Amina - 2007/3/24 - 02:46
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