I imagine your last moments
Hours before it happened
Wonder if you saw it coming
That this sun won’t rise on your faces again
That it would be hours; then you’d rest on your shadows
Hours before those brutes came
Merchants of death
Hooded faces adorning jungle fatigue
Gun-trotting cowards, crawling in the dark
Smelling the lie that they lived
Invoking the name of Allah
But for all the wrong reasons
I imagine you wrapped in your blanket
Soundly drinking porridge from the huge slumber guard
Your snore carrying far, drawing them to your tents
They tear in, kicking, yanking your blankets off
They order you out in a smattering Kiswahili
I imagine what a nightmare real life must have felt
As they shooed you out, with trembling hands on your heads
I imagine you, down low
Sandy gravel, cold as ice, cutting into your knees
Your shirts soaked in sweat; you know you are going to die
You know nobody will come to your rescue
Your safety, if any, is in your hands
I imagine them looking at you; their cold eyes staring
Waiting for you to recite a passage from the Koran
You fumble and blab and cry
And all you could remember to say was “Jesus!”
How they took you aside, like chaff
Because they thought that they are the wheat
I imagine their boots on your back
Sending you to the ground
Sending you to the ground
Your face hitting the dust
Your mouth and sand filing with sand
In a row, so you laid facedown
Waiting
Waiting to die
I imagine the terror of the moment
With your eyes closed, as you waited
The exploding gunshots tearing the cold still darkness
One at a time, coming down the row
Coming to you
Heads bursting like pumpkins fallen on a hard ground
Blood, warm and innocent, spilling and soaking the desert
sand
The yelps, the mourns of mercy that go unheeded
Your comrade wriggle and kick and die
The flame of their candles snuffed out
As you wait . . .
I imagine the tears in your eyes
As you wondered why you had to die like that
I imagine the terror
Hope you died of the terror alone
Not the head-splitting gunshots
Yes, I imagine how you died
How horrible, how painful!
Dying in the callous hands of deranged dogs
Dogs out on the leash,
Answering the call of their misguiding masters
Who confuse God for the Devil
And mislead generations of hapless men
To kill and maim and plunder
And die for a worthless cause
I imagine why you died
For me; for us
Somehow I feel so sure
That your death was not in vain
