the dust of empty spaces <br />washes off children's faces <br /> <br />refresh and restore <br />the lean veins <br />of the desolate young <br /> <br />there are hyena's in hearts <br />of the infants in Africa <br /> <br />find them where crying <br />jackals listen and they call <br />warriors whose bullets <br />would be blessings <br /> <br />they came and gathered <br />the little ones <br />in belated consolation <br /> <br />an orphanage raised <br /> <br />and oranges grew <br />a mission of breastplates <br />for the fatherless <br /> <br />where dust flinches <br />in the faces of love<br /><br />Elna Nel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mission-3/
