Saturday Poem

I am Emtithal Mahmoud and I am 14 years old. My mother is Amira Tibin, and my father is Dr. Ibrahim Mahmoud. I am the oldest of three children, with both a younger brother and sister. My family originally comes from El-Fashir, Northern Kutum, Dar Zagawa, and Nyala, all of which are regions of Darfur, Sudan. I live in Northeast Philadelphia and go to J.R. Masterman High school. These are my poems for Darfur.

Emitihal Mahmoud

The government of Sudan is reeking of racism.
If they don’t like someone, they’ll kill them.

That is what the war in the south
Was all about.

The government had no army,
So they tore Darfurians from their families.

They were tricked, then forced to become soldiers
With time, their lives grew colder.

The government said they’d get a good pay,
Or maybe even be wealthy some day.

Though, they never got to see their families or even money,
And what they once dreamed was lost for all eternity.

On top of all that, the government said to the boys of Darfur,
“You are going to be fighting in a war.”

These boys fought against their will,
For if they didn’t, they’d be killed.

People started trying to make peace,
But the government still would not cease.

Then one man came so close to stopping the persecution
The government personally saw to his execution.

After so many years of war,
The government blamed it on the boys of Darfur.

Will this government stay behind its mask?
A fowl one, embroidered with lies of the past?

If you could see the faces of the people who cried,
Then you would understand that these boys would never lie.

Most of these boys were never seen again, what a shame.
Yet, until this very day you can hear them say “We were FRAMED!”