Perhaps it belongs to an animal

Who squeals for mercy

But instead is stunned and skinned

But no, it couldn’t be them

Because there’s no blood once it’s been rinsed away

Or maybe it’s the young women

Who have been forced to be women,

Forced into dependency and into a stifled life,

But no, it couldn’t be them

Because burning leaves no blood

Or is it the elderly men of a village?

Who have fought so long for just a dream,

Armed only with rifles and hope

They fight all of their life for something untouchable

But no, it couldn’t be them