Anonymous
Its
On my face, in my hair, in the air around us, misting down on all the
huts, the stones, the dust that floats unbidden into ever crevice and
corner of our small and seemingly insignificant humanity;
Blood
The smell
Rank and sweet and sickly and nothing familiar about it and nothing to
spark the senses and comfort them into knowing that its supposed to be
there and we should forget it until the next time;
Blood
It
Came on the wind last night, the proceeding dust before a storm that
kicked up under the hooves of horses that brought the actual
destruction of body after the destruction of bombs had already
softened our disposition into unbelieving numbness;
Fire
The smell
Of charred flesh, clogging nostrils, blocking the pores of our body
and our mind and our soul as the screams rent air and sand and water
in the wells that dried up long ago when the desert began its slow
invasion into our places of work and living and life;
Fire
It
Grew slowly inside of each of us as the whisper and rumor of it spread
through each hut and village that had not already been burned and
desolated and left to melt back into the sand;
Despair
The smell
Is actually a poignant thing that creeps under each nose of each man
and each woman and each child as the days draw into weeks and the
weeks draw into years and most of us are not in our homes or not in
our country or not with those we love because they are dead dead dead
and we are alone alone alone;
Despair
You
Are not so different from me even though your hands hold the guns
while mine hold nothing. The blood that is on my face and in my hair
would be on you if I chose to stick you full of holes and hurt with
the hatred that I do not understand;
Confusion
There
Are over 400,000 of us that are forgotten somewhere in the South of
Darfur as the rest of the world watches and reacts in small particles
and small ways and small inklings of bigger things and pretends and
pretends and pretends to care but if you could smell the smells that
wrap our world, then you would not forget
Blood.
Fire.
Despair.
You.
Over there.
On my face, in my hair, in the air around us, misting down on all the
huts, the stones, the dust that floats unbidden into ever crevice and
corner of our small and seemingly insignificant humanity;
Blood
The smell
Rank and sweet and sickly and nothing familiar about it and nothing to
spark the senses and comfort them into knowing that its supposed to be
there and we should forget it until the next time;
Blood
It
Came on the wind last night, the proceeding dust before a storm that
kicked up under the hooves of horses that brought the actual
destruction of body after the destruction of bombs had already
softened our disposition into unbelieving numbness;
Fire
The smell
Of charred flesh, clogging nostrils, blocking the pores of our body
and our mind and our soul as the screams rent air and sand and water
in the wells that dried up long ago when the desert began its slow
invasion into our places of work and living and life;
Fire
It
Grew slowly inside of each of us as the whisper and rumor of it spread
through each hut and village that had not already been burned and
desolated and left to melt back into the sand;
Despair
The smell
Is actually a poignant thing that creeps under each nose of each man
and each woman and each child as the days draw into weeks and the
weeks draw into years and most of us are not in our homes or not in
our country or not with those we love because they are dead dead dead
and we are alone alone alone;
Despair
You
Are not so different from me even though your hands hold the guns
while mine hold nothing. The blood that is on my face and in my hair
would be on you if I chose to stick you full of holes and hurt with
the hatred that I do not understand;
Confusion
There
Are over 400,000 of us that are forgotten somewhere in the South of
Darfur as the rest of the world watches and reacts in small particles
and small ways and small inklings of bigger things and pretends and
pretends and pretends to care but if you could smell the smells that
wrap our world, then you would not forget
Blood.
Fire.
Despair.
You.
Over there.
If you would like to print this out to spread around your town, please include the following message:
After the Holocaust the U.N. declared "Never Again," would they let such an atrocity happen, but since then there have been Genocides in Bosnia, Cambodia, Rwanda and now, Darfur.
This piece is a part of an anti Genocide, anti Ignorance project called Open Eyes. To learn more and contribute visit www.openeyesforgenocide.blogspot.com
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