My Survivor

Do you see her? Sleeping calmly, closing her eyes slowly.
Do you see her? Waking up peacefully, opening her eyes little by little.
I don’t.

I see her aroused by the screams that come from the street,
awakened by the fright of losing someone today,
beginning her day scared, feeling the fear,
even if it comes from the other side of the wall.

I see her hearing terrible noises coming downstairs,
it’s Burro, the family donkey,
he hits the ceil of the shelter with his head,
and runs desperately in circles,
as the bombs fall incessantly.

I see her hugging her little siblings while they cry,
deciding together to close their eyes,
and pray together for their lives.
Her, who takes care of the family,
while her mother is paralyzed thinking about
her husband’s and children’s sacrifice.
She looks at the clock, tick-tock it does,
minutes become hours until she realizes
they’ve been immobilized for weeks.

I see her dressed in an old black dress,
holding the hand of her little brother,
burying their family, and blaming the war,
for leaving them alone.
Her, who won’t see her father again,
who won’t taste her mum’s food once more
who won’t be able to hug her siblings again,
holds her little brother’s hand stronger,
swearing to never let it go.

Do you see her? Touched by the pictures of her beloved people.
Do you see her? With tears streaming down her face.
I do.