Day 374

The first day the child walked, he was killed.
He stood, looked around, took one step
toward his father, whose arms opened
to receive him.  The sun was bright,
the dust had settled since the day before,
the child brought himself
to a stand, put one little foot in front of himself
and walked toward his father.  Who could say
where he would have gone next?  His father’s
arms open, the pace of the child’s
movement confident, strong.  He walked.
He looked at his father, both of them
smiling.  He reached him.  That’s how
they were found, the child’s small legs
and his father’s long legs tangled together.
That’s how they died.  The child walked
to his father. Then suddenly couldn’t see
him; everything black.  But he could feel
his father’s arms receiving him, wrapped
tightly, then more tightly, around him.