In a land that is beautiful and rich beyond compare,

One we rarely hear of as death hangs in the air.

Take the killing in Iraq, Afghanistan and Middle Eastern shores,

Now double it, triple it, many times and more.

You still won't come close to the five million perished

In Congo as warlords mined the stuff we cherish.

With remnants of genocide festering still,

Kabila or Entaganda, all sides like to kill.

Now death marches again, after man, woman and child,

With soldiers and rebels using evil gone wild.

The UN is there, with the biggest peacekeeping ever,

But they emerge from their walls . . . really almost never.

This is so complex, and depressing, you say.

But we all use a little piece of Congo each day.

From a land far away, too many horrors to mention,

The very least we could do is, pay attention.