Day 391

A choir of children in a makeshift school.
Their teacher plays a stringed instrument —
oud? — to accompany them.  They’re young,
maybe eight, ten, eleven.  Their voices
are sweet, soft.  They are singing a song —
maybe a kind of ballad — with 
a refrain.  They’re aware
of the video someone is making; some of them 
look occasionally toward the camera.  One girl looks
for a longer time than the others.  Her face
intense, her eyes clear.  Her arms thin:  how long
has it been since she’s eaten anything 
but bread, a little cheese, zaatar? How many
more months, weeks, days, will she survive?  And what
will it be that takes her:  hunger? sickness? a random
sniper shot?  Fire? She keeps singing as she watches
the camera, as though someone is purposefully
making a record of this:  this song, this serious
deliberate gaze. That she has lived.