The Little Girl

The Little Girl

Maysara Omar

 January 2011

***

Struck by malnutrition,

and perhaps because she wore unfit clothes,

the 9 year old lone girl looked even much younger,

as she stepped into the silent train vehicle,

right before it becomes 1:00 am.

She took out gum packs from her little bag,

and gave each one of them passengers,

one pack each.

No body really looked at her,

and some took the packs and kept them,

others so maturely rejected them,

with a silent hand sign that said:

No!”

or “Stop!”

or “Pass!”

Or “I don’t care!”

But never were there words, or looks,

to her.

The little girl returned

to collect the packs from those who took’em,

and some pennies offered with silent,

non-benevolent eyes.

Frustrated by the perfunctory manner

with which the girl took the pennies,

not saying “thank you”,

not saying anything at all

not even looking,

the bearded man is probably not going to give next time.

Or was he perhaps truly,

not looking for anything in return?!

The month is Tooba;

winter came late,

but came hard!

And the hour is late.

And the presence of the little girl,

makes harder of the hour,

Not that she’s exhausted,

and not that she has no reason to say “thank you”

(because her parents will take all the pennies she collected all day long!)

and not that she’s not wearing enough clothes;

but that no passenger finds it in himself,

to let her know that he knows,

that she is child!

What is the little girl to the passengers?

And what are the passengers to the little girl?!

HatHour stands there,

somewhere,

watching,

as She always does,

and feeling for all her children.

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