little one

her face leans close, questioning my intentions . why are you feeding me? why this kindness? when do i return to hell?
i hold her close, infant-daughter, sister-spirit, breathing words of solace and praying 'God have mercy.' all of these little ones, so few to foster, so few to listen.
soon they'll be old and withered, too old to care, too weary to weep.
heart bleeding i implore peace to enter.
the child rests.