The Boy (Poetry)

 The Boy

The African vulture stands in wait

It has no time to fly

The Darfurian boy crouches

With his head between his knees

He closes his eyes and whispers to his ancestors

That if his end must come now

Let it be from a diseased mosquito or starvation

Anything else but the death delivering

lords of destruction

Riding blood stained camels

From village to village

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