by Ethel Mortenson Davis
We saw how bad the killing is in this country. But the many more we did not see — children, women, and men in far away, hidden places, unknown towns, and mud-filled swamps. No one recorded their cries for help. Their blood has filled our land — up to the withers of our horses, touching the white wings of angels.
fourwindowspress 
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being.
Thank you, Kenne. Ethel
These are powerful lines Ethel, and beautifully expressed. They were needed.
Thanks John. Ethel
I wish everyone could understand Nana, this is so beautifully written and so Important…
Yes, it is important. Nana
A terrible stain on a country’s (or humanity’s) copy book.