Blue Norther by Zander Shaw
The guns. I watched the guns blaze. I saw the fire spurt from the end of those death-dealers. I saw the holes appear in you both. I watched the blood fan out from your backs like red angel wings. They dug graves and they put us in, all together. They think I was dead? Or didnt they care? Thought the soil would see me off. I felt the dirt patter on my shoulders and back. I felt it clod in my hair and the lights growin dim. I felt the blood of my folks trickle onto me, into me, leaking into my mouth, my eyes. And still I did not cry or scream or beg. I held my breath and I waited. When the soil was coverin me, I buried my face into Ma’s clothes and breathed the blood-tainted air that was trapped inside. I took solace. I took strength. Those graves werent deep enough. They could have dug for a month and it wouldnt have been enough.