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Sitting in Sudan MAG
I caught a glimpse of a little boy
Crying, scared, scarred beyond belief
And to help I thought I’d listen to his story.
We sat among charred rubble
And words began to spew from his mouth.
He did not know why it happened
Or where They took his mom.
The reign of terror, the Janjaweed
He remembers his Home in flames
As he tried to save his brother.
He recalls the searing of flames
The burns that scar him.
A disheartened village cries, mourns in Darfur.
Flames singed it down to ashes
Leaving nothing but a church bell
It amazes me that the injured boy still searches for his family each night
And as I tend to his wounds, the scars of violence
One day the child passes with the morning light.
After holding out for weeks
With aid failing to come,
The violence prevails.
How, I wonder, why a child must bear the marks
Of a failed world?