Darfur Poem by Michael Burch

Darfur,
I admit that my heart recoils
from the thought of your agony
as the hammering machine guns
yammer at your ebony
breast.

Darfur,
I am not equal to the task
of your impassioned soliloquy.

Darfur, I am pressed
hard to understand
why men molest
innocence
so violently.

Darfur, I confess—
I have watched you dying
silently.

Darfur, I would bless
you,
if only I knew
how.

Darfur,
I stand helpless,
naked before your indignation
now.

Darfur,
I have only my pen.
Let me wield it like a rapier,
set fire to this paper,
till the world in burning shreds
collapses on our heads
and we see your fate is ours
if we cannot change the course
of this world intent to maim
each one who's not the "same"
in color and in creed.
And yet the blood you bleed,
as red as mine, demands
that we die holding hands.

O Darfur,
I'll bleed too
when the ravenous jackals
are through
with you.