Day 925

The father’s body
is wrapped around the body
of his small son.
Blood stains both
of their clothing.  The child,
three, has been killed
in the street, standing
quietly with his father
when a vehicle near them
was bombed.  Now
the child is dead
and the father, alive.
Alive and wailing,
alive and sobbing.
They had been going
to a wedding.  The child
would have been dressed
by his father in clothes
for the wedding, but now
he’ll be dressed in a shroud.
He’ll join the thousands
of children dressed now
in shrouds.  Under
the earth, a whole
country of children.
Why why screams the father,
but there is no why.  The moment
he lets go of his son
and forever after, his arms
will be empty.