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Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The call came

one lazy afternoon,

as I roasted corn

and mother made food

the word rang out


we ran and I heard

the screams of mother

dust in my eyes and ears

stones hitting her flesh

my bloodied fear

as she panted her innocence

mingled with stunned denial

the silent march to the grave

In darkened corners

mother’s ghost still whimpers

and my hate is still fresh

my vengeance assured

to those who gave

the shout

that closed my future


  1. good blog
    greetings from spain

  2. Thank you very much. I am honoured by your visit.