the cry – woolwich

We heard your cry;

saw your blood stained hands

on YouTube;

saying you killed

to liberate those chained

by foreign policy.

 

I tried to listen

but it was marred by the gruesomeness

of the envoy;

instead I read

rage, madness, grief

yours and then my own.

 

You had your reasons

but none I could see;

released the victim from the

tyranny you painted.

All I saw was your addition to the cycle of

reprisal and murder.

 

Counting the losses;

amongst the wailing of those left behind

I see the results of your missive;

as it grows the gap and continues to tears us up apart.

 

© Cleopatra Chipo Kuuya 2013

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