Two Ways of Dying in Darfur

There are two ways to die in Darfur
The first is slow, meticulous and agonizing
It starts with a quiet gnawing at the stomach
And then an intermittent palpitation of
The wrist and the temple ensues, coupled with
Throbbing pain and dizziness and nausea
You’re marked for one when you begin to see
Your bones protrude from your flimsy skin
Or when your eyes seem like hollowed sockets
And flies and maggots fester at your gangrenous
Wounds that no longer bleed nor will ever heal
While vultures patiently wait for God to release
Your soul so they may feast on your liver and innards

The second death is sharp and painless
Or almost without pain because you are either
Too numb to feel it or you’ve quite forgotten
What pain is because all your life you’ve been
In one (like fish unmindful of the ocean)
This death is loud, violent and merciful
If by mercy you mean swift and certain
Like bullets through your brain or bombs that
Maim and instantly kill
You would prefer this for sure, rather than
The slow, meticulous and agonizing one
But even if you wished hard for this because
The first one is already in the process
Vultures still lay waiting to peck at what remains
Of your mangled and dishonored corpse