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Perhaps I've made an amalgam of memories
But today, twenty years later, I find
My mind can't move far from the circling
Swirling images of water-bleached-bald
and bloated bodies, like obscene starfish
filling the mud-dark pools under Rusumo falls,
where tourists used to play
on their way to see the Gorillas in the mist.

A thin, sad, and oh-so-tired voice stuttering
in the digital stacatto of the sattelite relay.
Nobody knows anything, no, I can't confirm, but I can tell you...

Twenty years ago, the machetes were falling
falling,
falling,
falling.

And we knew nothing
So we did nothing,
Were worth nothing.




We knew.