She

by | Apr 22, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

She – is fifteen and terrified.
Moist eyes, deep chocolate brown, show graphically the intense agony.

Used as a shield by the Iraqi militia.
A high velocity bullet ripped through her thigh.
Not a bone is broken – praise be to Allah.

Her leg cannot be repaired.
There is damage. So much muscle missing,
Sonic shock in traversing, made pulp of what remained.

Excised to the buttock. How ruined could a life be?
There’s no support out there, her mum died too.
I feel so sorry, but speech is impossible.

The distance in cultures is vast.
As a man I cannot touch her, to offer my succour.
My thoughts always trapped here with her, though she’ll not know.

I hope she survives – but to what life?
May Allah bless you young lady.
Accept my sorrow, for you

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