I promise not to be a Tutsi!
Please I don't want to die!
These words rushed out of the mouth of a child
When a rifle stared at him
His best friend had just been shot in the head
His mother was just a yard away...dead!
This wasn't a joke
He was next...I mean now!
Figures had shown a thousand died
But here it was a reality
Cause my truck was 12miles away
Too many bodies to climb over!
Too many thoughts to fight!
Too many tears to cry!
I just heard a rebel say a moment ago
You call the West for help and they say 'Too horrible and they go back to dinner'.
I remember a country ones courted by the mighty
A country now in the perils of doom
Funny how you are most alone when you are with the most
Shock, despair with the flicker of death abound
Right here, right now!
Tears are antifreeze to the soul.
What can I do to help?
Write till my fingers bleed...
Anyway, I'm a Journalist!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem