The Janjaweed

Darfur

The Darfur people bleed and die,

Butchered beneath indifferent skies,

Victims of murderous Janjaweed,

And the world pays little heed.

Congress rose in righteous wrath*,

But not because of this blood bath;

Its indignation was reserved instead

For a woman many years brain-dead.

Forlorn children driven from home -

Parents slaughtered - starve alone,

Huddled up in fetal curls…

All but ignored by a blasé world

That clucks and tsks at genocide -

Then turns away while thousands die.

One hundred eighty thousand to date

Found ethnic cleansing as their fate.

A million and more are refugees,

Brutalized and forced to flee

Across the borders of Sudan

To tenuous safety in neighboring lands.

We avert our eyes from the sight,

Soberly debating their cruel plight

While across Darfur death still stalks

As we talk, and talk, and talk…and talk.

© Thurman P. Woodfork 5/1/2005

*Terri Schiavo

Awarded 6 May 2005