Children of the Congo*

Distended bellies

Heads cocked to the side

Quizzical looks on their faces

As the trucks leave them behind

In their wake a cloud of dust and dirt

Hidden all over the childrens' bodies

I can't turn the channel

I don't want to stop staring

They can't see me

They don't even know that

I look so intently at them

Wondering

Why

Them

and

Not

Me

Skinny like the words above

Tiny too and yet if you stack

One on top of the other like words

You find power in them and their

Collective voice that speaks through

Their eyes ablaze with fractions

From murdering their own

Minds washed to do it without remorse

Cleaned up mentally makes them a mess

Makes them mess up other peoples' lives

Makes a mess of mine... they have

Punched so many holes in my heart when

I walk my heart whistles a dirge

I can not purge the sadness I have collected

Channel surfing through their lives

Exploited without knowledge

Knowing they have been left behind

So many times by others who hold the

Power to exact a change if they would

Take control of their remote controls
Stop surfing long enough to see

Distended bellies

Heads cocked to the side

Quizzical looks on their faces
As we flippantly flip on by.