Broken glass,
shots in the night,
voices, shouts and screams:
impossible to believe
that this
is really happening.
Cradling
the unfortunate child
in my arms
I listen to their people
opening up
with machine guns.
They are right,
we are wrong.
We are right,
they are wrong.
Meanwhile
I look at this child
with a bullet
hole in her tiny chest
and I think
none of this makes sense.
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