The great majestic beings tower above me.
Each decorated canvas, painted with coloured fur.
Artistic tattoos distinguish the Prize.
One eye framed in deep purple,
The white Prize stares at me.
My dreams are halted by a cry in the night.
The eerie tones in minor, a war cry for the village.
In minutes, men are knocking on the door.
“Please drive us to our cattle!”
“Please help us catch the thieves!”
There will be no more playing at the river.
The guns are used in darkness; an arrow near the path.
Thatched roofs burn in the village down the road.
Mattresses cover the floor.
“Just till their homes are safe”
An unexpected sleepover.
Mothers are afraid.
Homes must be rebuilt.
Sacrifice children for the golden calf.
Sell the Prize at the border.
The men are drunk on war.