Day 999

A father and his three-year-old son
go to look at the land
that was theirs, fields
of vegetables, fruit, once
blooming, harvested. They walk
in the summer afternoon, the father
holding his child’s hand, when suddenly
they hear gunshots coming
from a nearby house. A bullet
shoots though the little boy’s
eye, exits through the back
of his head. The father
picks up his son. Then he, too,
is shot. His leg collapses
under him. Soldiers run
toward them, assault them.
The father is screaming at them
to save the boy! Save the boy!
The child still breathing. Bleeding,
but breathing. Save the boy!
Forget about me! the father
is screaming. The soldiers
ignore him. Do nothing
to help the child. A wind
bends the weeds, the bolted
vegetables in the field. When
the father awakens from a brief
unconscious moment, he sees
his son wrapped in a black shroud.