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THE ROAD TO KHARTOUM
"I have heard their groans and sighs,
And seen their tears, and I would give every
Drop of blood in my veins to free them." - Harriet Tubman
In the day,
sand rains
down on us,
coarse as camel
hair against
blistered thighs,
advancing
from the vast bases
of the Sahara.
In the night,
the wind rolls the
grains back
like broken promises
flinging them through the air,
lethal missiles
to settle upon
the hard backs
of this geography:
_Aluel Mawien_
(girl, age unknown)
_Alei Nun Akok_
(boy, 14-years old)
_Achok Chang Angora_
(girl, 2-years old)
_Elizabeth Ading Deng_
(mother, 25 years)
no longer mrs. but missing
and presumed dead
one of many thousands gone
and yet no one speaks
of murder of rape
the desert strangles
more than words
_Allah Akbar!_
God is Great!
armed men
on horses
have no need
for translators
our names
do not represent
women and children,
whether
Christian, Muslim, or Ancestral Other,
we are all abducted_
slaves
we are the spoils of a celestial war
and such acts are
the accident of history,
celebrated in mosaic structures
jihads old
steeped in memories
of an eye
for an eye
a
tooth
for a tooth
and 35 US dollars a head
what this journey has taught us:
that foreign policy is UNclean
teeth biting down
on black throats, ripe as dates
that pain is fragrant
as the oiled skin of concubines
that truth can be stolen
hidden in oil drums shipped to Canada
that following the north star will not lead us to freedom
that some Talismans do not protect but exploit
that excuses are ubiquitous
as cheap
and as plentiful,
expendable
as human labor
These truths the Sun reflects
illuminating the harsh tender
moments in this, our third republic
demanding that every word must conjure
while the sands of rains
pour down on us,
paving the road from khartoum
to freedom.
- Sheree Renée Thomas