From the diary of an almost 4-year old Palestinian girl who lost her eye to a bullet.
Tomorrow the bandages will come off,
I wonder, will I see half an oven? Half an apple?
Half my mother's face with my one remaining eye?
I did not see the bullet
But felt its pain exploding in my head.
his image did not disintegrate
The soldier with his big gun and steady hands
And the look in his eyes I could not understand
If I can see him so clearly with my eyes closed,
It could be that inside our heads
We each have one spare set of eyes
To make up for the ones we lose.
Next month, on my birthday
I'll have a brand new glass eye
Maybe things will look round and fat at the middle.
I gaze through all my marbles,
They make the world look strange.
I hear a nine-month-old has also lost an eye,
I wonder if my soldier shot her too,
A soldier looking for little girls who look him in the eye.
I'm old enough, almost four,
I've seen enough of life
But she's just a baby
Who didn't know any better
By Hanan Mikhael Ashrawi
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