BIBLE PAGES

(1991-2000) Sierra Leone –

When that conflict,
once slack, turns harsh
and cracks like the whip
of a preacher’s tongue

They snapback covers, leaf
with purpose through donated tomes,
intoning their beliefs –
or not.  Caring nothing for
 

The words that they besmirch,
they rip the pages, roll their papers,
smudge that finest print with dirt
from dirty fingers, while

Clawing at their sleeves.
Look at him, with fag in hand -
there is nothing he believes
but what he knows and what he needs,

And what he needs is nicotine.
The dead-bell ringing
of his compromised beliefs
is nothing to the rifle-fire
 

That punctuates his
stifling desire.
Also notice this:
their women have received the rebels’ gift

Of angry scars on upper arms
from losing at the rape game;
so understand the way the people are,
the way they’ve lost their will to be.
 

Their arms and legs, slim as a cat’s
or amputated, bandaged white
are waving like surrender flags.
Their mouths are noiseless “o”s –

The “o” of consummate regret –
and the corners of their eyes hang down
with weighted tears – a longing to repent.
Still, they fall before their needs

And still they kneel at hollow altars
to trade their faith for momentary joy…
and in the glow of shells and mortars
transience lights up another cig.