No wants to tell the tale
or hear it,
For God and my country.
How we all tended to our gardens!
How we cooked spiced lunches
For our cheating spouses!
How we grinned and bore
The shame that ate at our souls!
O how we busied our consciences
With everything
And nothing!
To silence the voice inside
To keep it from reminding us
That
“bona baana,
a little blood
is still blood
what peace ever came
from another’s pain?”

bona baana- they are all children

 

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