A Poem for Darfur

Bury your faces in the hot dust of Kalma, my Sisters.
Cover your shame with the tattered corner
Of your sun-bleached thoub.
Bend your bruised knees on the dirt floor
Where your fallen huts once stood.
Cradle the bony frame of the one child,
The one child who survived.
Weep for Darfur.

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