"Darfur" Through the bloodshed and the tears. The fear through the years, Is there no help that will come? Drowning in the dust, Hiding in the shacks, Through the painful violations And heartless attacks. A gift from God, turned sour. The reason for the lesions From what you cannot run and cower. Forever a part of the body. Forever a constant reminder of, Something worse than a memory. For the reason was not love. My baby, My poor baby. To be known and to believe, The reason for the conceived. The scars of wounds left to never heal. For there is daily reminds Of what was all too real. What to do, When you can’t turn away. Instead of love, There’s a hate child to face everyday. It’s hard to love what was part of another, So evil, so cold. And having to somewhere find heart, For there’s a baby to hold. So innocent, But born guilty. How disgusting to feel so filthy. It’s a feeling nothing could ever wash away. It’s a plague, a branded name, To carry the child of an attacker, To carry the pain. Left alone, for all eternity, Having to carry apart of a stranger with me. A stranger who took my life, A stranger who took my family. A stranger who has forever, Branded me. The hate for the attacker, The sympathy for those abused. The hurt in the eyes, Of the broken and used. We carry on together, Trying not to fall apart. Praying things get better, Praying for help to start. Written with love by Nicole Laraby December 7, 2006