poem.
For What a Picture is Worth
The calm African sun
Laid itself to rest
On the dry horizon. Distant sounds
Of
The ceremony filled the giant sunset.
Trees embrace the blood
Red heavens with open arms.
The air is thick and slow, time pauses in its crimson tracks.
A child named Niri runs boisterously
Over the stone-hearted sahara.
Robes of irritating hemp cut
Deep into her ebony skin - but not
As fierce as the hunger stabbing her. Her body frozen in mid-run
Going home to see Mama.
Mama lay still
On the dirt floor of her hut, bathing
In her own blood. Eyes rolled
Backward, and crimson
Blood staining a radiating white smile.
A young child changed
Forever, because of HIV/AIDS.
The calm African sun
Laid itself to rest
On the dry horizon. Distant sounds
Of
The ceremony filled the giant sunset.
Trees embrace the blood
Red heavens with open arms.
The air is thick and slow, time pauses in its crimson tracks.
A child named Niri runs boisterously
Over the stone-hearted sahara.
Robes of irritating hemp cut
Deep into her ebony skin - but not
As fierce as the hunger stabbing her. Her body frozen in mid-run
Going home to see Mama.
Mama lay still
On the dirt floor of her hut, bathing
In her own blood. Eyes rolled
Backward, and crimson
Blood staining a radiating white smile.
A young child changed
Forever, because of HIV/AIDS.