By Mayyu Ali
They’re Kind Killers
A stream of blood gushes
From where my husband and son were killed.
My baby snatched from me,
Thrown into the bonfire before my eyes.
He couldn’t even cry full song,
Burnt to fuel in a minute.
At least I didn’t have to see the corpses like others did,
Nor I did have to bury them.
They’re kind killers.
Killers enjoying the hunt.
One asked for money and gold,
I gave everything I owned, including my earrings
And they raped me one after another.
The last one said:
I am not going to use my penis on you
Instead, he used his knife.
They set me alight and left me for dead.
I find myself silent and bleeding.
The world is too brave to watch us being killed.
(Based on testimony of a Rohingya rape survivor of the Tula Toli Massacre carried out by the Myanmar military during the area clearance operation in August 2017)