In the Shadow of Dead Silence

Zaheda sits in the shadows
of the rubble
alone.
When she said that she didn’t want to live
her mother said,
”They want us dead too. Don’t help them.”
The world is filled with memory mines
waiting to explode the covers of sorrow.
A torn shoe-string broke the dam of tears yesterday.
She saw Nagham trying to tie his own shoes.
His fingers didn’t have two years of experience
in the world.
Zaheda holds Nagham with her memory
in her arms.
His little arm rests on her neck
his head on her shoulder
her hand on his back.
The touch of his arm feels
like a velvet blessing.
His back breaths trust against her hand.
Her tears flow like a silent river in the mist.
Like the silence in the media
now that the bombs have stopped falling
this time.

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“A child is treasure of possibilities
in a chest of joy lined with love.”
Dartwill Aquila