Horn of Africa, trumpets of fear.
Fears of starvation, maiming, murder.
Bags of skin and bones buried near
By dry-eyed elders bereft of hope.
The very youngest are the first to go.
Time and time alone saves the rest.
Day after day, a duty must be performed—
Endlessly, day follows day—
Just to satisfy a power-hungry few.
Who protects these power-mad from revenge?
“Vengeance, sayeth the lord, is mine.”
When will vengeance be visited on them?
How much longer must we wait, Lord?
Forgive me, Lord, as I avenge my own.
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