Massacre

I heard guns rattling while I prayed bent in the middle of the night. I looked up at the stars – sparking white crystals. “Duck, take cover,” said a voice. “Cover from whom, from what?” I asked. “My own people are killing me – with whom I share the same colour of blood as mine, same parent as mine, same neighbour as mine, and same god as mine. Why should I run, and for what?” I said. “You run from mindlessness which is not your own, for the life you need to save which is your own.” So I hid to live.