Vultures Feast

January 27, 2009

Thick skin, soft heart;
thin skin, hard heart.
Take it in, play your part.

Wounded warrior weeps in the field,
lay low in cover, keep your eyes peeled.

what made the children flee?
The swamps are not a place of glee.

Deep sunken eyes, protruding bellies
With tear stung face, I begin to realize.

Rebel war had come to town,
The silence is shattered,
children dead on the ground.
Others ran and scattered!

Nauseous smell on the wind
Vultures circle, then the feast begins.
“Pain for you but feeding time for me”,
the vultures feast has come early.

whimpers are heard
but it is much too late
Love had been silenced,
loud is screaming HATE.

Memories run like hunted thing,
down paths I care not retrace.
From field of blood to a sweaty bed,
one nod of sleep only comes by grace.

You break it you own it read the sign!
“Who owns me!” I cried with a sigh.

Kevin J. Turner

(Written 10 years after seeing children
 in Sudan being eaten by vultures)

Posted in Kevin Turner, Pondering, Suffering