The Night Commuters

The shades of dusk descend
with all the colors of the desert;
sand, blue sky, blood red.
Then they appear, the children
like ghosts, swathed in white
from the empty quarter. They come
fleeing the hell the left behind them;
the Lords Resistance Army.
They haunt the towns
each night, gathering
to themselves for refuge
against the dark rain.
The night commuters,
bus stations, churches,
grave yards and hospitals,
their only homes.
With the dawn they are gone
like morning mist
and bad dreams
to hide wherever shadows go
during the day.

This poem is about children in Africa, Nigeria, I think, who leave their remote homes each day before sunset to hide in the cities in towns. They are the specific victims and targets of the Lords Resistance Army, who rape the young girls and force the boys to be soilders. Very young children are killed, sometimes literally trampled to death underfoot. The picture of these kids coming into town out of the desert at night is one that I cannot get out of my head.