JoelJosol Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 The color of the rice fields is changing but typhoon winds induce a miscarriage. Rain water lashes at them, burying their stalks, as heavy clouds keep watch overhead. In the city, gunshots break up the rank of marching farmers- one, two, four bodies dropping to the asphalt like rice stalks, their blood spotting, splattering on abandoned slippers as soldiers eye the dispersed crowd with rifles. After the storm, fields lay overwhelmed, their grain dying in the brown water. In the city, the farmers hold silence in their fists, their dead bathed in blood, as the body count begins. Quote "Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.