AN: This is the first poem in my new series of poems about history. This one is from the point of view of a 12 year old boy who lives in Sudan, Africa when the soldiers came to kill all the non Muslim people. This tells the story of the Lost Boys of Sudan. The village represents one of the many that were overrun, and the inhabitants killed. Although the narrator is fictional, this event is real. This took place around 2001-2004 I believe. Correct me if I'm wrong.

It is hot out.

We are hungry.

We are tired.

But we have to keep going.

We have to reach Ethiopia.

We have to escape the bloody war.

We have to.

Walking,

for miles and miles.

We can't stop,

or they'll kill us all.

I fled my village to escape them,

the merciless soldiers

who have orders

to kill us.

I saw my daddy shot.

He was bleeding

on the floor.

I ran from the house

'cause I was next.

I reached the brush,

and hid.

They couldn't see me.

Thank the Lord!

I watched,

as they locked a bunch of girls in a house.

One of them was my sister.

They burned that house down.

From my hiding place,

I saw other boys

from the village

running, fleeing death.

I followed them.

The 9 of us joined up together.

We promised to protect each other.

and look out for each other.

And so our journey began.