Someone called my name ,

I listened carefully to hear if  mundane.

As my eyes focused on a mother in distress,

She was so beautiful, looked like an empress!

A small child she held close in her arms so tight,

I could not get over the dark of the night.

I answered her call but not right away,

I wanted to make sure it was not play.

When I came closer to the mother and  babe,

My answer was affirmative and not a maybe.

The chlld was hungry; no milk to be found,

someone calling my name ; it was not a clown.

The reality struck me once, twice and three times,

It was war and horrific crimes!

The desert was dark and hyena's roaming,

Victims escaped the hard times , postponing.

Genocide was the hell of the militant's thrills,

Her story made me have chills.

Someone called my name,

How could I remain the same.

I awakened to realize , GENOCIDE!

Women and children , I cried!

Will the world ever be a better place?

Reality hit me face to face!