What horrors we wage
In the light of day
Bodies left decaying
For the world to see
Conakry
September, two thousand nine
Moïse Dadis
Junta chief, will not resign
His command
To sworn democratic law
Thousands band
To demand that he withdraw
Crowd trapped
Soldiers
Gather
Guns drawn
Fire
Butchery veiled in tear gas
Bayonettes puncture eyes
Flesh strewn across the grass
Knives sever robes from thighs
Women raped with gun barrels
Bullet through a child's head
Howls of humans feral
As they haul away the dead
Red berets
Elite guard
Murder-crazed
A city scarred
Stores they loot
Ribs they snap
Under boot
Cadavers wrapped
"C'est du
Jamais-vu, "
They said
"Pourquoi
Nous, Allah? "
They pled
To absent god
At the morgue a mother
Seeks out her son
No remains were found
A desperate father
Reaches for his gun
His daughter bound
In an army base
Used by soldiers in turn
'til a rapist discerned
Her familiar face
And, shamed, set her
Free
She speaks no word to her doctor
For fear her pain disgrace her kin
For weeks she dared not sleep or dream
Camara denied blame for the atrocity:
"The military's beyond my control."
The chief of his guard drew a pistol
And fired a round in the president's
Skull
He survives
Abdicates
A flood of
Candidates
Compete in Guinea's
First truly
Democratic vote
Anarchy
Mars the year
Election
Frauds unclear
Will of the people:
Guineans elect
Alpha Condé
The girl's suicide
The son never found
The butchers alive
The butchers alive