An elegy for the lost boys of the 1983 Sudan Civil War.
Happily, they lived in their village until the day they were scattered and made to flee in fear, Flee, from the sounds of bullet and from the explosion of bombs. They'd wished to stay with their families, but the severity of war had torn them apart. Villages invaded and huts burnt down, Cattles stolen and girls taken for slavery, Innocent girls and women were raped to death, Fathers will never see their sons again. Mothers painfully watched their daughters die from the Army's weapons. The cloud was filled with dust It was clear that something was amiss. Driven away from the land of honey, to embark on a treacherous journey. Trekking a thousand miles, Surviving is hard when food is scarce. Many had died due to starvation. The cry of the little boy couldn't change a thing. His mother had been killed by a Leopard. Torn apart by war, he yearns to see his home again. His cry echoing the tranquil forest, Dry skulls on the floor like cassava heaps, Broken bones in the sand of the desert, He panicked as he mused, Who is next to die? Surviving the lonely night Worn out, mentally drained, yet, pleading the wild animals not to feed on their flesh. Where are the lost boys of Sudan? Why do they have to suffer from what they don't know? Is it a crime to be a Sudanese? Why force me to serve your God? They had no idea what they were being killed for. A child who had only wished to live, why should innocent boys who knows nothing about race, religion, and oil, die of what they can't even define? Thrust into a world of hopelessness, welcomed by the scourging sun of Africa's desert. Starved to feed on leaves and mud, extremely thirsty that they had no option than to drink their urine. One who hadn't experienced a war wouldn't understand how brutal it is. Trekking a thousand mile across Africa's wilderness, From the village of Juol in Sudan to Shambe, crossing the River Nile to Pochala. And barefoot, arrived in Ethiopia. Every joint has its own pain to offer. Ethiopia offered them another dread like Sudan, they'd had to flee to Kenya. Yet, life was brutal in Kakuma Refugee Camp. My praise to those who survived, but how about those who died in the course of this treacherous journey? Rest in peace dear boys of Sudan but remember not to come to Africa if you'd had the chance to live a second time. Always remember your pain in the wilderness, and how your government hunted you. Remember how the Armies killed you, And how bombs were released from the sky to devour you. The audible cry of an orphan in the tranquil forest. Over there, his friend's skull is lying on the desert's sand. What have little kids done wrong to deserve this? Shouldn't they be excluded from war? Has their death brought peace to the land of Sudan? How do those killers feel shedding another man's blood? Dear lost boys of Sudan, I write you an elegy to express my agony of your story. I've heard about your story from Benson Deng. Alepho, who was once a part of you, said it was a terrible journey. So, I write to those souls who couldn't survive the brutal war, To rest in peace, and sleep on. To the souls that were lost and the people that were never found, Rest on and on, but I do have a request from you, Could you please tell Africa not to involve itself in a war again? Could you please educate our leaders on the effect of war? Why are we even fighting when we all shall die someday? Hello, lost boys of Sudan, would you be able to read my elegy? If a dirge could bring back the soul of the dead, I would have been so excited. If a dirge could bring back the dead I would have loved to hear your own side of the story. I've got nothing to do other than pay you a solace by writing you a mournful poem. I felt your pain and your agony brought me to tears. No human being should have experienced your kind of death. I wish I know your names I would have dedicated this piece of poetry to you, to at least express my pain of your demise I wish the new generation would learn from your agony, And preach against war! Sleep on, dear helpless boys. Rest on and cuddle yourself in the dark. For this is what becomes of a war, That the innocent ones got to suffer it. Your story would stay in our hearts forever, We shall remember that something terrible happened to you on the soil of Africa. Rest in the bosom of your fate, If only a dirge could wake the dead I would have loved you to tell your own story, And tell the story of how you died.