Walking down to the river, hat on, quiet and foggy morning.

Empty streets, fear is in the air.

Gun powder smell invades senses.

Huey helicopters roam the area.

People staying put, trapped in homes.

Children having breakfast, eggs, fried bananas, black beans and french bread, School canceled.

River trip reverts, rushing  back home, family is goal.

Whispers “come in”, “here”, ” get off the street”, love ones in mind.

Machine gun sounds echo everywhere.

Well geared soldiers, trained at School of Americas, nearby.

An appearance of North American is clear, brown faces, but the look is Yankee.

A flock of northern ducks flies over. The north is upon us.

Death in town is near, cold war at its best.

At the door, eyes on faces lost in anguish.

No where to run, town under siege.

Life, young or old, cut short.

No mercy, No respect, massacre awaiting.

Invading Atlacatl beasts savoring blood of brotherhood.

One more shot, one more rape, one more child.

No turn back, destruction, annihilation, American made.

Run or hide, Torogoz perched on an electric wire above a roof.

No where to go, adults’ lives, children’s lives, life diminishes.

Hawk Mozote in beak takes fly, assassins take over.

Brutal death, 1,000 humans in El Mozote!

Close up Sangre

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