In the midst of the battle,
I find you, so lost.
A child that's homeless,
The One They Forgot.
I see you with bruises,
Your skin, bare... decayed...
The Child almost dead...
-- but was saved....
I saw him, alone,
in the alley [...his home.]
He had scrapes on his skin,
he was badly beaten...
In Iraq, he'd been living,
his leg had been bleeding...
He whimpered timidly
as he saw me coming...
The boy had been shot
in the leg and the arm.
Just a child, maybe 5 ...
His blood kept pouring out.
He was moaning so loud,
I tried calming him down...
He became less tense
and he let me near him.
His eyes, sunk and hollow;
his pulse, blank and slow...
He was dying so fast,
the base was far back.
I radioed for MedVAC
but they couldn't get here...
I held the boys pain
and said "It's All Okay."
He looked into my eyes,
tears falling to the ground,
and he grabbed, tight, my hand,
and The Lost boy was found.
I wished that I could help him,
I couldn't speak to him...
He didn't speak English,
-- Nor could I distinguish
the words he was moaning
Or sentences he'd spoken...
I tried being helpful...
But felt so helpless.
I held his hand tightly,
I tried looking nice,
For we spoke not a word,
but sat in dead silence.
And his breathing was rapid,
his breathing was slow.
The shots in the distance
just kept getting close.
And as they came closer,
his breathing got slower,
I looked for a pulse...
He was dead.
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