100 darkest days

Great piece. Thank you for sharing in such a poetic tone of yours.

strongblacktree Stories/Poetry

A year came, it was the seventh day of april 1994.

I remember the hundred endless darkest days when fear nocked on the doors of tutsis.

With confidence and support they rushed, machetes and swords they carried.

Cries of innocent children heard everywhere around the country, it was the rainy season but the beginning of massacre.

Brave tutsi men tried to protect their families but pangas was on their neck, women and young girls being raped at the daylight, no mercy were shown for the smiling babies.

Brothers and sisters turned enemies, neighbours turned into strangers.

The so called priests, bishops and pastors who we called fathers were the ones to deliver us in the hands of the killers. The order was to destroy and eliminated every tutsi blood.

The world watched millions of tutsis being slaughtered and massacred but did nothing to stop the genocide.

Thousands of tutsis was…

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