Day 510/Ceasefire Day 40

The boy was found by a stranger.
Stranger?  Someone
who hadn’t known him before,
who learned somehow
that the boy’s parents
had been killed.  When?  The boy
was too young to know.  All
he knew was that they were gone.
Gone.  And that he was hungry.
Cold.  And all the stranger —
stranger? — knew 
was that there was a child
younger than three, perhaps;
unable to talk (from trauma?
because of his age?) who needed
someone to take him,
and the stranger 
took him. Kept him.  Cared for him.
And this is a story
of how, when people have nothing
or next to nothing, they can be willing
to share it with a child who has
even less.  And this is a story
about the way love
is a form of resistance.