Day 670

You wake to the cries
of birds of prey overhead. Whose flesh
are they searching for? Your infant’s,
dying of starvation? Your
father’s, old man who survived
so many wars, so many bombings, and now
has no energy even to speak?
Your older children, who weeks ago
still played and ran in front of the tent,
and now lie quietly all day on dusty ground,
not even whimpering? Only the birds
are announcing their hunger. You
watch them circle. Every moment
you wonder who will be next.