Not Even A Thousand Words
-Tess J. Fleming
Not even a thousand words could tell your story, AJ.
Your mismatched tsinelas;
your hand-me-downs well worn.
No image could have captured the radiance of your hopeful, sparkling eyes anyway, AJ.
Neither your two hands longing for someone, anyone, to respond to their cry of please, please won’t
you hold me and tell me that you love me and maybe even give me a cup of water it’s okay if it’s not
cold.
And if a mosquito gives me a fever may I please have some medicine…
Dengue fever doesn’t kill.
You, it did.
Did you know, AJ, that if someone had given to you, precious vulnerable 5-year-old, some
acetaminophen and fluids, then maybe, maybe, you could still see through those deep, penetratingly
beautiful eyes of yours?
The next Sunday morning, AJ, your little brother came.
RJ wore your shirt and your eyes and your hands and…
…They burnt a hole in my heart.
I love you, AJ.
Jesus loves you, AJ.
*tsinelas = flip-flops (Filipino)
Your mismatched tsinelas;
your hand-me-downs well worn.
No image could have captured the radiance of your hopeful, sparkling eyes anyway, AJ.
Neither your two hands longing for someone, anyone, to respond to their cry of please, please won’t
you hold me and tell me that you love me and maybe even give me a cup of water it’s okay if it’s not
cold.
And if a mosquito gives me a fever may I please have some medicine…
Dengue fever doesn’t kill.
You, it did.
Did you know, AJ, that if someone had given to you, precious vulnerable 5-year-old, some
acetaminophen and fluids, then maybe, maybe, you could still see through those deep, penetratingly
beautiful eyes of yours?
The next Sunday morning, AJ, your little brother came.
RJ wore your shirt and your eyes and your hands and…
…They burnt a hole in my heart.
I love you, AJ.
Jesus loves you, AJ.
*tsinelas = flip-flops (Filipino)