How Children Survive
Children live here among hungry ghosts that wander aimlessly.
Children protected by dewy innocence and soft questioning hands live in this place of ruin where their parents howl hauntingly into the void
Is where the children have sprung up wild and free.
Their feet beating the dirt
Their toes curled by the excitement of a new day.
Their joy foraged from the heap of debris and surprise.
There is depth in their understanding of what happened here.
They had no say when the adults started the fights and the raids
Dropping bomb after bomb
Decimating the children’s playgrounds and all of their dreams.
They watched their nanas, mommas, poppas, aunties, uncles, sister, brother, cousins fade away.
There is no one left to tell them to run, to hide, to look away.
They are on their own now.
They wander in groups
They naturally understand that they are stronger together
That their survival depends on their ability to get a long.
I wonder if the children will remember this time when they become adults.
I wonder if they will remember at all.
