Day 636

He’s ten.  He’s sitting
on the ground, holding 
his younger brother
in his lap.  Next to them,
lying down, is their sister, clearly
wounded, crying.  He is so tender
with them, you’d think
he was already grown.  The girl
is crying for their mother.  He
is stroking her hair as a mother
might, or a father.  He’s
ten.  He should be running
down the street with friends,
kicking a ball, shouting.
He should be sprinting
into the sea, diving
under a wave, coming up
smiling.  Instead
he is telling his sister
and brother, Mommy
will come back soon.  She’s
coming… Instead
he’s looking up at the sky, 
looking east to where
there’s a pillar of smoke.
More frightened
than he will admit
to them. Wondering if what 
he’s telling them
is the truth.