Poetry

I cannot forget
how unnoticed
for a week we follow tracks
 
where women terrorists
go to a native village
to trade their bodies
 
and they bring back food
 
and leave weapons, ammunition, landmines
and hand-grenades at that place
 
how that women
break away unnoticed from that village
and plant landmines in a road
 
and a farmer and his wife and child
with their pickup truck lie blown to bits
 
and I wonder if those people
did not also want a life?