
That moment you see her.
A little girl standing
on the dusty, dirt road.
She's dirty.
She's alone.
She is lost.
In the middle of the desert.
Desolate.
Then she looks up at you.
In her eyes you see.
The questions.
The wondering.
The fear.
Her eyes are huge
Like saucers.
And bright blue.
And intense.
There is dirt under her fingernails.
And all over her tear stained cheeks.
Her little legs are smeared with dirt.
Her little dress is tattered and worn.
And so dirty, it looks gray.
She has no shoes.
And her feet are black
from being dirty for so long.
And her belly is distended
She has no food.
Her little arms are bony,
like sticks.
Her hair is a mess.
And you can't tell what color it is
from all the matted dirty messiness.
Like a birds nest in the mud.
How could this happen?
Who could do this?
Where are her parents?
Why?
Always the question,
why.
You reach out to her.
But you cannot touch her.
No matter what you do,
You cannot reach her.
She is untouchable.
Like running down a long hallway
that never ends.
The closer you get
the farther away she becomes.
And it leaves you
feeling helpless.
And then you do that thing
that makes it easier.
You close your eyes
And you pretend.
You pretend she isn't really there
in that place.
You pretend she is clothed
and fed.
You pretend people are there
to love her.
You pretend she is happy,
healthy,
and most importantly
normal.
You can see it in your mind.
The beautiful golden locks
flowing around her smiling face.
Good parents are there
to hold her and care for her
like its supposed to be.
She is covered
with lace and love.
She picks flowers for you
and you love her.
You can touch her
and be kind to her.
You can watch her grow
to the beautiful strong woman
she was made to be.
You can see her full of life
with a fulfilled life.
She is a mother, a wife,
a daughter, and a friend.
She has all that life can offer
and so much more.
But then you open your eyes.
And she is none of that.
She is still on that road
Still abandoned.
Still filthy.
She cries, softly
in the night.
It plagues your thoughts.
You try to make sense of it.
It goes round and round
only to come back to the same
unanswered questions.
And it kills you.
Why can't I save her?
Then a young man comes along.
He talks to her,
and then talks to her some more.
They go on walks
and he finds himself to love her.
You think for a moment;
this must be the answer.
But as time goes by,
she is still dirty,
still hungry,
still afraid.
Why can't he help her?
And then
He abandons her.
Time moves on.
Another year passes
and then another.
More come in and out of her life.
She is still there,
and nothing changes.
You start to get angry.
At her.
At yourself.
At everyone.
You feel exhausted.
You stop looking at her.
You stop visiting her.
You stop thinking about her.
You abandon her.
Just like everyone else.
Just like everyone will.
Because you can't save her.
No one can.


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