Yesterday Ahmed was playing in the street with his friends. I wanted to play too but mother said I had to help her. There was a very big noise. It was so big that everything shook. It was followed by many others. I was so afraid, I hid under the bed. Mother was afraid too but she ran outside. People were shouting. I went outside. Everything was broken and burning. There was no Ahmed. Mother was wailing and beating her head. Our neighbour was holding her. My heart was beating loudly! Where was Ahmed. I waited for him but he did not come back. He never came back.
Today they buried Ahmed. They put him inside the ground. They put his little friends too. But Rashid was taken to the hospital, maybe they will put him in the ground afterwards, like they did my brother Faisal. Faisal went to a place called hospital. Children who go to the hospital are then put into the ground. My father said that was because they did not have something called medicines. I did not understand. Last night I could not sleep. All night mother cried. Sometimes she kissed Ahmed’s pillow, sometimes the new dress she had made for his third birthday sometimes his tiny new shoes. He would never wear that dress. He would never wear those shoes. Ahmed would never be three I thought.
In the night mother came to me and held me tight. I could not breathe. She kissed my cheeks and my eyes many times. Her face was wet with tears.
Today mother gave me a biscuit. It was from the packet she had brought for Ahmed. He liked biscuits. I also liked biscuits very much. I would have liked a biscuit sometimes but they were only for Ahmad. That was because he was smaller. I took a bite from the biscuit. It was sweet and crunchy, but I could not eat it, it was Ahmed’s biscuit. He would never eat it. He would never come back. Why Ahmed? I thought, what did he do wrong, he was so small and sweet,always smiling. He played with me. I thought of his plump face, his chubby pink cheeks, his big shining black eyes, his curly hair. I could never hold him again. I began to cry.
Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams 
This story broke my heart…I have tears flowing down my face. Is this written from your own experience? I’m so sad for you, for your mother, for Ahmad.
No Robynn I wrote this in 2003 when Iraq was attacked. We are just a 100 km or so from the border. It was heartbreaking watching the news constantly and yet we could not tear ourselves away from the television. I was totally traumatised just watching it, this was a way to express the grief. It still makes me cry, I posted it here for a fellow blogger. I wrote a poem on a dying American soldier too.
The way you described it in the little girls words made it so vivid and my heart goes out to all those people. Her thoughts are so innocent and so beautifully described.
I love this!!
And thank you for posting this, I was wondering how I would look for it. You are an amazing writer. =)
Thanks. I posted it for you. i know how one can grieve for people one doesn’t know. The world around us is unfortunately getting totally desensitized. I feel the pain in your writing. It is a rare gift and I see that you use it well.
I never commented on this – read it through again and I am so struck by how you capture this – A Voice for the voiceless. Thank you.
Thanks for reading Marilyn. It is an old write I posted here for Nadia. It was an outpouring of grief. It just came out in the voice of a little girl. I am glad some little girl found her voice through me.