In Memoriam-The Killing Fields
The following is a poem I wrote during a group chat about the Cambodian Killing Fields. It isn’t a 9/11 remembrance, but I think it’s an appropriate time for remembering all sorts of loss.
Humped mass graves embrace bones underneath;
these are the gifts Pol Pot bequeathed.
A tear-filled tower marks the center
of the peaceful park families were splintered.
Grimacing skulls stacked on high,
give little voice to the tortureds’ sighs.
From the cities and villages these “traitors” were shipped,
their lives compromised by their own neighbors’ tip.
Their haunted stares line the S21’s walls,
these spaces of learning turned to torturous stalls.
The pain was administered by brainwashed teens,
who unwittingly aided the destruction of dreams.
Numbers ’round necks denote each day’s kill count,
the transformation from humans to coursing blood fount.
Buried clothing washes up with each rain,
an unceasing reminder of the past’s pain.
Never forget Cambodia’s Killing Field,
For these lost souls should our bells always peal.