( For all the nameless children enslaved by Kony )
Seized in the darkness of night,
wrestling through a dusky obsession and
infringed by this demon,
lurking and menacing your being,
your lineage and race.
Naming you nameless.
Marched with the thundering herd of
faceless faces, juvenile like you to an
invisible sojourn of a perpetual existence.
To fight his fight,
To slaughter the defenseless,
To apprehend your mother’s daughters for a grant.
Carrying his ammunitions, inflicting
Disquietude within you, amongst you.
I may not feel your pain
but I can pen my tears, your tears.
As I pen my fury about your plight.
In my quiet inner sanctuary
panes in reverie,
I will carry you
in cadence, bearing your soul.
I will be your beacon of light
as you pass through the beam of
tomorrows and unknowingness.
I will not sing your eulogy but
I will be your voice
even in the final hours
so You can sleep soundly, assured,
undaunted and free.
This much I know,
In this crimson horizon
I will give your name back
swaddled by sunset
until this stone wall silence
start to quiver.
© All rights reserved, March 13,2012. J.H. Abastillas