Ajinkya Nene

Blood Diamonds

Why me, God, Why me?
What did I do in my past life to have earned such a punishment?
Since birth, I have seen no beauty only gun and knife.
The rebels, they came, they raided, and stripped me of my life.
Those devils stole our food and destroyed our homes,
Leaving nothing in their places but rubble domes.
They caught and raped the women;
Before killing them off like they did the men.
My family, my friends, and neighbors too, are now all dead;
Most shot up and stabbed while still in bed.
Only a few escaped, not once looking back,
Leaving me, an orphan, alone with everything to lack.

The pleasant village in which I once lived was now gone.
In the very place where I stood,
There once used to be a little house made of mud and wood.
But now all that was left was a crumbling wall painted with blood.
Outside this house, was once planted a tall elegant tree,
A symbol of the only thing in this land that is free.
After all the destruction the tree is still there,
Yet for some reason, it seems bare.
Its long brown arms were once raised to the sky,
But today they droop down with a heavy sigh.
The tiny innocent green leaves,
Once lived happily, glued to the tree’s hands,
But today they were burning, dying on the sand.
As a young boy of only eight I cannot deny,
That at that moment, I though I would die.
And in my sadness and pain, I curled up on the sand and started to cry.

The tears slowly trickled down my cheek,
It seemed I had been crying for over a week.
As I closed my eyes for some rest,
I felt a sharp tug on the collar of my vest.
I rolled to my side only to see,
A tall black raider nearly six foot three.
I scrambled up to my feet,
In fear of the monstrous cheat.
A wide grin stretched across his rugged face,
Showing his bright yellow teeth like diamonds in a display case.
The man was strong without a doubt,
The sleeves of his shirt torn by his large biceps bulging out.
He stared down upon me with a nasty look,
Before knocking me out with a quick left hook.
When I woke up I was dazed and confused,
My cheek was blue and badly bruised.
I looked around with my tired eyes,
And to my shock saw other guys.
By the looks on their faces and cuts on their bodies I could tell,
That they were no raiders, no angels of hell,
Simply young boys who were kidnapped as well.

Soon the man who hit me entered the dark foul-smelling room,
And forced us towards our future tomb.
Outside, a cool breeze freshened the air;
Briefly lessening the amount of despair.
We were led to river that was crystal clear
Made from sweat, blood, and tears.
In this river we were forced to finds,
Diamonds of all shape, size, and kind.

For the past twelve I have searched endlessly for these treasures,
And found not more than five.
In my time working I have seen many die,
Pass-out, and even collapse and cry.
This makes me wonder.
What kind of a person wants things that have been obtained from violence?
Things like these terrible red blood diamonds.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.