It was a happening, <br />a moment in time, <br />some fifty years ago. <br />I remember <br />the pull on my shirt, <br />a plaintive voice <br />a cry for help, <br />the revulsion <br />that I felt. <br /> <br />For standing there, <br />Iraqi girl, <br />age close to seven, <br />dress torn, <br />sandals broken, <br />cupped hands <br />outstretched; <br />no nose, <br />no cheek, <br />no right eye. <br />staring out <br />instead <br />a gap, <br />a void, <br />a fly trapped <br />festering hole. <br /> <br />Horror struck, <br />I search, <br />I find a coin, <br />a silver one, <br />to give, <br />to push <br />into her hand. <br /> <br />I think <br />girl with only half a face, <br />please go away, <br />please leave my view, <br />seeing you <br />I ache, I pain, <br />I hurt, <br />for you do offend <br />my sight. <br /> <br />She had run, <br />had scurried off, <br />was quickly gone. <br /> <br />Now when I close my eyes.<br /><br />Bob Blackwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memory-13/
