I read this from urbana.org and was moved. Moved in the sense that I want to do something. I felt like moving beyond the safety of oblivion about what happens in the world. Maybe these poems will do that for you.


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The Zion Project
by Sarita Hartz

This is a story of a girl child soldier in Uganda.
What follows is mine.

Her eyes haunt me still.
The hopelessness of them was hard to bear
as she told me what happened to her.
There were gaps and stops. Hesitations where I knew
she was thinking, remembering, like fingering a scar
that was too painful to touch still.

The stories. So many of them, the same:

They came.
In the night. Ripped me from my parents'
arms. Killed them. Then and there.
Made me walk. Miles.
No water, only rain. If lucky.
I begged him to pee in a cup for me.
We ate grass like cows.


They gave me to an old man.
They made me kill my best friend.
They said they would kill me.

My baby is all I have now. My only family.
I left him in the garden once with friends…
I came back and they were beating him
calling him the son of Kony.
They called us “killers.”

Sometimes, sometimes I think of going
back to the bush.
At least there, there, I was accepted.

If only I could have
a place of my own.


Coming Home
The sun sets a stream of red over a long horizon above the deserts of Sudan. As I fly over towards Uganda, I feel my heart sense that I am coming closer to home. From the air there is no landscape just the black shape like a backbone rising out of the African dust. This is Africa. A strong back lit up by the sun. Always breathing, always rising.

She rises still.

I do not know what will become of me here, only that I am drawn here as the wild geese to a warmer spring, the trout who swim upstream, and the wolf to the studded moonlit darkness. There will be many failures but maybe there will be one life utterly transformed, catapulted into redemption. I used to think that I could bring something, that I could save the many, but I think more now that this is about God doing something in me.
I think of what Lilla Watson said: “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time... But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

Some say God left Africa a long time ago. The tribal wars clash on, the governments steal and crack the backs of children in mines for money they will never see, Aids spreads, malaria consumes, and girl child soldiers seem beyond repair. But I find God in Africa - in the midst of the most destitute of places, in the least ones whose lives have been given up on, in tiny acts of grace and raw human need. He is close to the poor. His world order is very different from our own.

Here is where revolution will not come through the wise or powerful, but through the children who stretch their arms to the sky. And I realized that all I can give is Him through love that never says enough is enough but cracks on through the middle of the most painful places. It’s not that they need Him more than we do, but it is because He is at home here, He flourishes here, He is making a way because he is wanted. Here we live close to our desire. Close to want for more in life and close to disappointment. We befriend the lack of things meeting up to our expectations. We sleep with dreams of possibility in our heads.

It is never as we think it should be. It is harder than we thought it would be. But here we are being born and baptized over again with light and with fire.


There is a war in Northern Uganda that has been going on for 21 years. Children are abducted to fight as soldiers with the rebel army. They are often forced to kill family members and friends. For more info on the crisis and how you can help in the current peace talks visit: http://www.resolveuganda.org/.