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at the forest of horror we found the dried bones of people's children a web of forgotten clothes; the rustiness of them, brown shorts & baby diapers beside a dying woman, school uniforms & bags & plastic bottles & sandals & a man whose wife does not recognize the frame of his body & a girl, 14, thin with guilt breastfeeding a child in another room, we found femurs the latitude of suffering tendons of dreams roasted in calabashes, blood in plastic containers echoes raging like voices pleading for salvation people whose gods did not forsake were hacked with cutlasses by men whose children were hungry at home