BANG YANG

An orphan, a mother, a widow,

she sobs herself dry,

eyes searching the foliage,

waiting, wondering,

who and what will be next?

The jungle is her home,

the inhabitants her friends,

all grieving, all waiting,

all numb with disbelief

that their plight continues

in a modern age

when lots of help

was promised

but those that made

the promises slinked off

banished Bang Yang and

her comrades to a living hell.

Not for them

soft, downy pillows,

widescreen television

and full bodied wine

that resembles the

steady flow of blood

that seeps from weakened

betrayed, forgotten heroes.