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Juliana Feb 2019
the sun roared with intensity
turning ebony skins golden
twelve bodies, littered on the ground
empty cases of flesh bereft of life
blood dripping out of their wounds,
seeping into the Earth's rich soil
a deep shade of brown, like their skin
around them children kneel
hollow cheeks damp with tears
as they mourn those before them
souls that once walked the earth
but never will no more
and their brothers, with skins
a light contrast to their dark ones
roams the same earth freely
fingernails caked with dried blood and
blood on their pale feet
like red wine on white silk
yet no one  bats an eye
nor do they raise a finger
their whispers never turning
into rage fueled shouts
for their own children are safe,
nestled  under their covers
certain that tomorrow
the day after tomorrow
and all the tomorrows to come
they shall walk free and unharmed
unlike the bodies on the ground
even as they leave a trail of red
b e h i n d  t h e m

— The End —