Day 268

The ambulance was bombed
that might have saved the boy Hammoud.
His friend talks about how they’d played
together every day
since they were small:  first
with metal cars, then soccer.
Hammoud who was killed played soccer
even in the rain, even in the cold.
He liked to say he was afraid
of nothing.  His friend
breaks down, talking
about Hammoud, wonders
what fear might have entered
through the fractured bones,
the blinded eyes.  What fear,
waiting for the ambulance
that never came.  The inner light
dimming slowly.  Slowly.
Then all at once.