by Colson and Sam N.

http://www.travelblog.org/World/ug-gov.html,

http://www.enotes.com/genocide-encyclopedia/uganda,

http://www.google.com/search?sclient=psy&hl=en&site=&source=hp&q=uganda&aq=f&aqi=g-s4g-o1&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=&pbx=1&emsg=NCSR&noj=1&ei=U4DITKijJ6jkpgT7_KzZCQ&safe=active

Poems on Uganda

The Blood of the Land

               By Colson

I see black jutting peaks like blades of charcoal-black obsidian that stab at the misty blue wing membranes of thin sky protruding from the vile serpent that is the unknown.

I feel the beating of callused soles from life in the village, kind grandmothers standing to welcome their children in to hear tales of mischievous njuzu spirits.

My people planting fruits to nourish the land, even when their brothers leave sulfurous smoke hanging in the air and gouge chunks of earth from the ground under their feet.

I wonder how suddenly great plagues choke the life out of forlorn villages and sweep away the their essence, like termites fleeing from a smoldering nest.

Then the blood of the land seeps in inky blackness from the rich native soil, feeding rusted iron monsters of desolation, cruel sunset-orange eyes glowing malevolently from behind grease stained cogs.

The blood of the land, a war torn land dying like a field suffering from torrents of an acid rain scourge.

Using or abusing the democratic freedom nursed to health and sustained with the sacrifices of mortal men, souls dissipating like ashes on the western wind.

The echoing bellow of guns, mines, and other finely-honed servants of death.

But even in this joy-deprived land, cities spring up thriving in trade and the night life of bars, friends, and the intercontinental zealots breaking down the frail wall of  that cursed blessing of isolation.

This is Uganda…