Day 964

for Donya Abu Sitta, who wrote about this child

How old is this boy? Maybe
eight? Nine? Someone
has gouged out his left eye.
How could it happen? Were they
that close? Did they come up
to the boy’s face with some
lethal instrument? Or
was it an explosion
somewhere near, and the eye
was injured and couldn’t
be saved? Now for the rest
of his life, the boy
will have one eye — obviously
injured, to tell by the thickness
of the lens he wears over it.
His face bears the lines of pain:
pain from his eyes, the lost one
and the one that’s still struggling?
Pain from whatever else,
whoever else, he’s lost?
He stands on the food line
holding a small bowl,
hoping someone will pour
some soup into it, some rice.
He will carry it back to his tent,
share it with whoever else
may be there: his one eye
looking out at their grateful
smiles, his other
looking inward at all
he wishes he wouldn’t remember.