Poetry

The mountains of Congo whispers.
To the melodies of the forest birds.
As the river Congo water dances to the tune.
Suddenly; the harmony is broken.
By the cry of a woman.
No! A sweet young girl.
At only 15 years of age.
She’s forced to the ground.
Her body roughly ground.
To the earth’s amazement.
For their manly amusement.
Her back on the land.
She is covered with sand.
They tare her garments.
Men with guns, Gun-men.
Deeper they sink, louder she screams.
Turns they switch, in pain she faints.
laugh while leaving.
The girl and universe grieving.
Hours later, she crawls home.
For safer norms.
But her home is melancholic.
Her 46 year old mother.
Just got psychologically murdered.
Defiled too, by the Men with guns.
FDLR and the Mai Mai militias.
Two lifes destroyed, the story of hundreds.
Actions worthy castrations not prosecution.
Yet UN official urges Congo prosecution.
Our humanity and conscience raped.