War for Oil (Darfur, Africa)
The skies over Darfur are quiet,
save for the wind in wings of vultures
waiting for that almost meatless child,
clinging to its mother’s shriveled breast.
The gunfire is sporadic, off to the east
where soldiers of misfortune round up
those who ran from the camp.
There is no fear of bombs, this place
barely exists, offers no kickbacks
to presidents, their kin or commanders.
There’s only scrabbled ground
wet with blood as women are raped
or a skull is cracked.
No liberation force is coming,
no toppling of statues or searches
for weapons of mass destruction.
Here is famine, genocide,
dark skin pouring black oil
that holds no currency.