Imperceptible pad of footsteps on hard-packed earth;
Look down,
gaze into the upturned face of a girl,
her stringy black hair matted with dried blood.
Tiny, isn’t she?
Emaciated from days without food.

(And love?  What of love?)
(Shh, not now…)

She sucks softly on her dirt-covered thumb
pleads
wordlessly:
Take me home with you,
far away from here.
Feed me.

(And love?  What of love?)
(Shh, I said not now…)

Kneel to look into her eyes,
so dark, bottomless and beseeching.
She tugs on your clinking dog tags;
adds a “please.”
One word of English
to substitute a language of pain.
Give her a peppermint,
watch her face light up at the cool, sharp taste.

(And love?  What of love?)
(Shh, not now, I say…)

A hug.
Two thin, bony arms curl around your waist.
And a smile,
just like your daughter’s.
Use a sun-burnt hand to quickly swipe at your eyes.
Here to fight, not cry.

(And love?  What of love?)
(Shh… I said shh…)

Or leave the tears,
to blur her image,
and smudge the Kodak moment of your soul.