Blood Diamonds
From the fields of Sierra Leone
to the shops of Belgium
blood diamonds in the pockets of rebels,
black hearts black market,
this priceless booty extracted
from severed hands of women and children.
What kind of mind would wield that rusty axe,
hack away the human potential to take, to give, to touch?
You’ve seen the ads: Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.
This girl has no fingers.
Eyes luminous, she tells the reporter:
I don’t want people to buy diamonds.
Diamonds are killing us.
I choose this poem to be part of my blog for many reasons. Whether it was it great imagery or how it helped paint a picture of these people that are being hurt in these countries. It was a fantastic poem to help others get a good point of view of the pain these people are put through.
michaelpappas19 