Thurman P. Woodfork
Congress rose in righteous wrath,
But not because of this blood bath;
Its indignation was reserved instead
For a woman many years brain-dead.
Forlorn children driven from home –
Parents slaughtered – starve alone,
Huddled up in fetal curls…
All but ignored by a blasé world
That clucks and tsks at genocide –
Then turns away while thousands die.
One hundred eighty thousand to date
Found ethnic cleansing as their fate.
A million and more are refugees
Brutalized and forced to flee
Across the borders of Sudan
To tenuous safety in neighboring lands.
We avert our eyes from the sight
Soberly debating their cruel plight
While across Darfur death still stalks
As we talk, and talk, and talk, and talk…
©Copyright May 1, 2005 by Thurman P. Woodfork
In the Darfur region of Sudan, refugees flee the Janjaweed militia Francesco Zizola/Magnum Photos: April 2005