A Day in the Sands

Morning—

The sun breaks over the visual plane

Morning—

Clouds of white dot the sky

Morning—

Human figures arise from shabby shacks.

Surrounded by block and clay buildings

Tin and cardboard, old clothe shrouds—

Cries of babies and children abound

Hunger from their bellies screams out.

Winds blow softly,

Sand pelts against my skin—

As I gaze across the barren land

I see the army moving slowly.

Moving towards the village—

All are bent on engagement

Of friend or foe, and in the evening,

The sky blackens with a stench.

The bodies’ lay on sand crumpled—

The parts of skin, fingers, human fragments

All too visible in the sunlight,

All too visible in the darkness of my mind.