Day 1,034

He was up on the roof
where the buckets were.
He was scooping some water
into a jug so his mother
could cook dinner. He was a boy,
thin but strong. He loved sports.
He loved running. Climbing.
Now he’s been killed
by a drone. Now his mother
has lost her first child,
her oldest child.
Now the buckets have been
shot too, the water
they’ve collected is running
over the roof, running
down the side of the building.
Wasted. Gone
to join everything wasted.
Now the child is gone
and the water is gone
and the younger ones
are crying for their brother
and their mother is standing
on the soaked roof looking
at her child’s lifeless body
and wondering how
she will live her life without him.