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Bukavu
I told my three year old daughter
to look at the stars.
“Each star is an African tribe.”
There are no more empires.
Only rebels. Even you and I,
though we do nothing but exist.
The soldiers came for us
in the town square.
In front of everyone,
they raped my daughter and I.
She will never have children.
Here, no one will marry
a woman who can’t bear children.
Far away, in America,
a man slips a diamond ring
onto a woman’s slender finger.
We paid for their happy ending.
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emilybrink
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