To Omaira Sanchez And The Endless Night Poem by Patti Masterman

Omaira, I know there are no more birthday parties for you
(If you ever knew what one was)
And no beloved waiting for you, in Colombia-
Except for a hasty, poorly planned arrangement
With your dead aunt, also trapped underwater,
Her rigored hand fast around one leg,
Because she was still trying to save you
From the mud and the flood, when she drowned;
And a foundation slab rests on your other leg.
Above you, camera bulbs are always flashing
On your sleepless face, showing just above the surface
Of the bottomless water hole.
You are singing the songs of childhood,
Until reason itself begins to go to sleep
And your mind begins to wander away
Needing some freedom, looking for somewhere
Where it's warm and dry again
Where your Aunt has released her fierce grip
And no houses are lying on you.
(In fairy tales only, should houses fall on people,
And then only on the very evil ones.)

Omaira, my heart weeping for you
Is all there is to know of water now.
I need only to show your photo
To prove how dangerous being alive is;
How death kills mainly the innocent,
Guilty of no crime except breathing.
Your face of mute suffering will haunt my dreams
For the rest of my life; because you were young,
Undeserving of pain and death,
While trapped in cold water and filth
And though I know you were not the only one
For me, you are the one who dies nightly now,
Over and over, each time I look at your picture.
I think you must be the bravest girl who ever lived;
For once you've died alone, by yourself
With the walls of houses, and the hands of the dead
Holding you underneath the water till your last breath,
How can there be anything left in this world to be afraid of?