Pounding a nail
through stubborn cement
movement and heat and sparks
tensing of muscle, olecranal energy
transformed and transferred
in dusk's darkening stillness.
On the way to Sudan, they forced us to kill many people. One morning a young boy was brought to us. We were told he had tried to escape. They had killed him. His body was swollen and cut from, many beatings. We were told to chop the body into smaller pieces. Boys were given the heart and liver to eat. Girls were told to cook and eat the rest of the body parts. We did as we were told.
Pounding veal
a stubborn firmness
no movement no heat no spark
relaxing of muscle, a cold dark slab
transformed and prepared
in afternoon light.
A few days later a commander called me and said he had a special task for me. He was carrying a newborn baby. He placed the baby in a large wooden mortar, the one we used for pounding grain. He gave me a heavy wooden pestle and ordered me to start pounding. I was afraid, but I did as I was told....They told me to continue pounding until they were satisfied the baby was dead.
--O.R., a 14 year old Ugandan abductee*
Pounded like grain
despite stubborn love
feces and piss and blood
quivering muscle, infant congealing
transforms and condemns
our early morning light.
*Quote from When the Sun Sets, We Start to Worry..., published by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, November, 2003, excerpted in Harper's Magazine, August, 2004, p. 23.
| 
