Reflection
“RUN” she said to her child, before her voice drowned out.
There was a moment of silence, before another shot fired
The little boy crouched behind a rock and waited
For he longed to return home, but knew he couldn’t
Amidst the chaos, the bloodshed, the violence and the terrors
He remained calm, as calm as can be
He stared into a puddle filled with muddy red water
And it showed him the world; our world, of uncertainty
Screams of horror echoed through the alleys
The dead lay scattered on the roads
There was aggression, there was unimaginable loss
There was fear, but no signs of remorse
But the shrieks were deafened and the wallows silenced
By his plea for justice, and his cries for help
For the little boy of tender seven (or eight perhaps)
Merely longed to be anywhere else
He might have been you, he might have been me
Leaving everything behind, being forced to flee
To seek asylum in a place unknown to him
To escape his home, become a refugee
But the little boy stood
Stood firm, like a boulder
He had found courage, even when the darkness reflected before him
He held on tight to his reality, for he knew if he didn’t
He’d find himself slip into a world much colder
—Aliya S., age 13, grade 8, Mumbai, India.