THE LEADER

Soon after I read the prompt this morning, I listened to an interview with a Libyan citizen, lamenting on the fear that Gaddafi continues to slaughter and shows no sign of stepping down. He said “thousands of people are missing and no one knows where they are.” I wanted to write a poem about a singer, or a fisherman, or a cowboy but those words stuck in my mind and I realized this was the "type of person” I was meant to write about.






THE LEADER

“Thousands of people are missing
And no one knows where they are”
If you’re looking for a loved one
Ask the man with a face like a scar

Common life has little meaning
To the man with the large golden ring
Whose interest is focused on massacre
Not on peace that his exit could bring

A ragtag uprising of people
Who want to live life without fear
Mean to take down the leader
Who repeats “I am here. I am here.”

Humanitarian intervention
Is what they are calling assistance
To the fighters who aimed to take Tripoli
And learned the true meaning of resistance

The leader confuses himself with a peacock
His finery a mockery to those
Who go hungry and hide in their houses
It’s a death sentence to choose to oppose.

“Thousands of people are missing
And no one knows where they are”
Stand on your rooftop and cry to the sky
The leader knows where they are


.

.