The bullet sliced the air above bodies

swept to the ground with fear.

Then it landed

on her.

Why her?

Why not her?

She’s only 2. Julian Nalwanga.

She’s lucky to have left

the madness of this place

for a better one below.


Her mother disagrees.

She paces the verandah

of the court building,

remembering 2011,

when walking to work

was a crime.


Her eyes shift from the empty dock

to the empty chair

bearing the magistrate’s jacket.


Still, she waits.

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