uganda
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Tiny arms
Small Hands
Distended belly
Ginger hair
The small girl tugs on me
On my arm,
Shouting “Muzungu!”
The small girl pulls on me
On my heart
in seventh grade I got an IM on my computer
a girl decided that I was less than her because of the way that I dressed
That little Uganda boy
Tripping, falling over glass
Decay and forgotten objects linger
When does it stop?
When do the bruises cease, And absent peace subside from the mind of that little Uganda boy
Gunfire reigns above the graves of those been shot and killed, or maimed.
And left to dig their own graves in Iraqi sand
As we, the few, the proud, the brave, the dumb, the weak, the safe, the slain
