Day 566

in memory of Fatima Hassouna

You were murdered for telling
what happened.  Murdered (with
all of your family) for showing it,
murdered for your photographs.  Even
amid the bombing, amid hospitals
collapsing, amid children
bleeding into the dust, you went on
taking your pictures, went on
saying in words and in images,
this was.  This happened.  This
was a life lived by a child, this
was what we did, what we saw,
what we studied, cared about, lost.
These were the ways we fought.  These
were our hands, our eyes.  Who
murders a twenty-five year old woman
(with her whole family)
because she took pictures?  Who
murders two hundred journalists —
more! — because they are telling
what is?  Today, Fatima, I heard
from a friend, younger
than you were, who lives
not far from where you lived.
I will not give up, she wrote. 
Every day is a struggle
not to give up.  She won’t.
You didn’t.  Do you know
what courage that compels me
to find within myself?