Day 1,126

Rimas al-Madhoun

The girl
shattered in fragments
before her father’s eyes.
Seventeen years old.
Living in a tent
in the encampment.
Displaced how many times?
The bomb released.
The girl in pieces. Her body
exploded. An arm here,
a leg there. Fingers.
Feet. Her head.
Her beautiful smile.
Shattered. Shredded. Her father
standing beside the tent, holding
one of her arms. How many times
had he held that arm? his child
learning to walk,
to ride a bicycle, climb a tree,
take one cautious step
after another
on a high narrow ledge.
How many times
had he placed a hand
on that arm
to guide her through a crowd
at a busy market,
help her balance herself,
stop her from some
impulsive act,
in solace, in comfort, in reassurance?