A child lays in the street, her hands folded across her chest, her dress streaked with dirt and blood

It is quiet and the procession of refugees make their way by her

Careful to not disturb the angel sleeping in the street

Her skin is black and when you look at it you think of night and expect to see stars across her thin body

She's small, her bones poking through her skin, you can count her ribs through her dress

Around her, in Nomans Land, a battle rages on

Her people fighting each other, her people dying at one anothers hands

They dont remember love, or dreams, hope, or the safety net of sleep

Instead their world revolves around hunger, survival, making it until tomorrow

The parade of broken people continue their trek, their feet leaving bloody footprints in the dirt

Over the screams and the gunfire from the war raging around them you can hear their voices

Singing the songs of their Gods, a steady beat, their voices strong, they hold on to each other with this African hymn and when night falls and the children sleep you can still hear them singing

About the angel in the street.