In Rwanda

At the borders of Kivu and Gisenyi,
The land mourns her emptiness.

There is stirring silence
In the fragments of lone bricks
On patched earth.

Sprawling tombs retell
The litany of a mother’s sorrow
At the crossroads of an Eastern soil
When she heard the wailing
From the wall of her home
And the ballads of her children in exile.

Mothers’ sorrow is in Africa, too.

You may not know what their eyes
Have seen in the lands
They call their homes.

You may not understand their silence
And the fire of their lips.

In Africa, mothers see their children
Die in the streets.