F is for Feud Diamonds

Here is a poem I wrote for a project in Global Issues.  This was on blood diamonds, but my letter was F… Hop you enjoy!

I hold the gem in the air,

and stare into its cold, clear

surface.

As it turns in my fingers,

it shows me

the images

we live.

Children being blown past skies,

humans being split in two

or more.

And why do we still work here?

To finance

their wars and lives…?

Grenades:  used to wipe us out

We, the children, are slaves to

this trade.

This diamond has been dyed black,

having been caked with dried blood.

In fact

some is mine.

Yet they do this

to us…

So the sun will bake the skin

on my back with its dry heat,

for now,

while I’m still

here and alive.

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