By Lengs
Everyday brings new fear,
fear of the method of killing.
We are like animals,
killed daily by butchers.
But butchers of men are more cruel. Those of animals kill them with kindness. Our houses were our abateours.
They knock at will to slaughter.
No one was safe.
Our sin was our belief.
They hunt us from cliff to valley,
smashing those on the run-
Trying to annihilate us.
The butcher’s hand is still hanging in the air, always thirsty for our blood.