Lost Graves

The sway of our flag was refreshing

Sweet as a ripened mango pressed against our lips

We would own the land

Sit and watch it blossom

The oil would flow

 Make our faces radiant

The enemies trampled our garden

Uprooting the roses and daises

Sprinkling the petals over the graves of the lost

We fought to keep our home  alive

Wooden sticks as guns

Trained young boys for battle

Our children deteriorating before our own eyes

Stomachs hallow enough to drum the beat of our anthem

Blood ran deep into the soil

No more crops grew

We cradled our dead in our arms

We mourned them until our tears dried

And with our fingers swollen from digging the ground for hope

We surrendered