by Jane Allyson

Created on: April 03, 2009   Last Updated: March 19, 2011

Stacked up in heaps,
Like dry blocks of wood,
millions of voices,
would cry if they could.

They looked to the West
For some recognition,
But the dust of their people
Turned fact into fiction.

Blind eyes and deaf ears
Were tuned by such dross
"We had no hope of telling,
The truth of our loss!"

Lies upon lies
Dictated a truth,
That beggared belief
But where was the proof?

The faces all faded,
And grew into one,
Starvation and pity,
And nowhere to run.

Did the world not hear them?
Were their voices muted so?
Was their pain not apparent,
Did you see the evil grow?

They cried in the darkness,
All starved of attention,
An anaesthetized world
Sealed the fate of a nation.

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