its barely twilight
and she has to go to bed
she looks into her mama's eyes
blue crystals overshadowed
with fear and trepidition
eyes that have seen a lot
massacres and murders
eyes that will never ever be the same again
thunderstroms rain outside
the air is humid and stale
her father's absence looming large
the sheep are crying outside
she guesses 'its the rain'
but it may be gun shots
thats scaring them
she is sad
she has no friends
all are dead by now
the village is deserted
but for the smoked huts
lying there scattered
but for the bloodied limbs
no two of which is distinguishable
she is sad
Grandma keeps mumbling
talking about the past
about a village
that once resonated with laughter
where safron meant gold
people had food to eat
she is hungry
yes, she is sad too
but it doesnt bother her, i guess
for she is used to living dead...
behind the mask....
Friday, November 24, 2006
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