What I will never forget, can never forget, must never forget,
Is the child's face.
And the pure innocence with which she regarded the camera,
Smiling,
As she held her younger sister on her back.

Her scarf was white.
I'm sure that's important, very sure that it's important.
It was white, but soiled with dirt.
And coiled around her head hapzardly,
Like the bandage,
Taped carelessly to the gash on her arm,
Staunching the flow of blood,
Which should never have been spilt.

I must never forget her.
She may already have met the fate of her parents,
Slaughtered,
Violently,
Needlessly,
In the hot, dry desert sands,
Or starved to death like so many others,
Or fallen victim to some easily curable disease,
That she was never vaccinated for.

But I must hope that she lives still,
Hope that she will have all the time in the world,
To grow into the woman she could be.
To live,
To laugh,
To smile,
To love,
Beneath a clear blue sky, and beautiful sun,
With her friends at her side.

I must never forget her,
Never forget her smile,
Because if I don't remember her,
I'm afraid to say,
I don't think anyone else will.