Day 284

The children could be saved
but there are no antibiotics.
No insulin, no chemo drugs.
No bandages to staunch the bleeding.
No surgical instruments.  This child
who, hours before, had been running.
This child who had been sitting
in her father’s lap, her father
telling her a story
about a girl
in some other country
climbing trees, swimming in lakes.
In some other country this child
would have had x-rays, ultrasounds.
A surgeon would have sat by her bed,
told her the steps he would take
to make certain her body healed.
She would have awakened 
in a bright room, 
her father
bending over her.  Now
the last thing he has of her
is the story he told her,
the memory of her listening.