How do I look at you? how do I look away? You little boy, wiping blood off your face and not knowing what it is. I am trying to numb myself. I don’t want to see, because when I look, you pull me into that van and I have to look into your big eyes, and answer you. You are 5, yet you are sitting still in that seat, you’re not instinctively asking for your mother, I know what that means. How do I not fall onto my knees, look into your eyes and imagine my 4 year old sitting there looking like that. Just writing this sentence, this thought in words, has my hands trembling. How do i not look at you like a mother? This is too much to bear, i feel a pain, a deep hollowing pain only mothers can feel. You are cutting up my insides. This is too real to forget. As i see my 4 year old throwing a tantrum in the morning, you haunt me. Your lost demeanor, your stunned face, your frightened big eyes haunt me. This world has failed you Omran, I have failed you.