The collection of  freckles brought on by sunlight,

lashes thick over her eyes as she watches.

Sneaking closer to observe the fray,

timid and curious.

What do they say?


Two tones lighter than the dark clay wall,

orange jellaba and scarf upon her small frame.

Gathering the courage to go,

determined and eager.

The ones she does not know.


Foreign and out of place these people are,

vast dunes stretching in the distance.

She walks out on small feet,

bare and dirty.

Never again will they meet.


Unbelievable fondness through mere sight,

Peering into their eyes she has grown to admire.

Je m’appelle Fatema she said,

joyful and radiant.

All these thoughts in her head.


Following her every move from then on,

This child who has captured my whole heart.

Kisses on my cheek she later shares,

Je t’aime I say.

Hoping she knows that I care.


One Response to “Fatema”

  1. shelbwest Says:

    Note: Written about a young girl named Fatema from Merzouga whom we met on the streets while playing a game of soccer with the local children.

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