She Wasn’t Fast Enough (the tale of the surviving Iraqi sister)

We ran
They shot at us
We kept running
They just kept shooting
We ran but we were not fast enough
They didn’t mean to hurt us
But they still shot at us
They shot at her

I grip her hand and want her to climb atop my back
“I will run for you” I scream
But she just wasn’t fast enough

Bullets fall from the sky like wounded angels
And strike like lightning
Pierce through her stomach like god eye’s sneers down upon humanity
She wasn’t fast enough

My heels dig into the ground as I sprint across the mud
Gunfire grazes my ear like the lips of death nibbling at the corners of my little sister’s soul
The pitter patter of her feet can’t compare to the thud of tanks
I reach for her hand
But they got her
She wasn’t fast enough
So now she is bleeding

Falling to my knees I feel the bloodied soil splash against my face
I drag her body to the river
She won’t stop bleeding
I can’t stop screaming
She is dying
She is dead

The reddened fabric drapes around her delicate olive frame
Strands of jet black hair wiggle about the murky water
Her head rests atop my thighs
My legs are folded
I have surrendered

She is dying in my lap
But she is probably dead by now
I know nothing of death
Not death like this

I sit there in the belly of the river
Her delicate lifeless body sprawled across my bloodied lap
Searching for god in her vacant eyes
I watch her last tear shimmy down her pale, cold cheek
I stroke her face and close her eyelids

She just wasn’t fast enough.