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October 19, 2011
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It was 1963
when that gracious man
rescued me from my village…

I sat there in the man’s arms,
asking myself, why?
Was it worth it?

We bombed them first.
They’re allowed to bomb us back…right?
But at what cost?

Boom! Our village—ambushed.
“Be brave,” my parents said.
How?

My stomach moaned from hunger.
I was only six years old.
Why me?

I lost everything.
“Be strong,” that friendly man said.
Why?





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Lizzie H. said...
Nov. 1, 2011 at 10:03 pm
This is so true. Sometimes we get wrapped up in what we are doing, we forget why we are doing it.
 
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