A Red Dress

A red dress has a million words.

Words of power, wisdom, and fortune.

To have a dress of such beauty,

something that is the only thing to remember your mother by,

burned in an endless flame of hate,

that has no end to sorrow.

All a young girl can do is weep,

that, and stare mindlessly at the man who struck the match.

A man,

a murderer,

a soldier.

The dress is gone forever,

along with the spirit of a five year old girl.

A much worse thing than cruelty,

it's like losing hope.

The flames swallow hope,

make false thoughts

and poison.

This is life as a Cambodian child,

the hard, secret life.

To even try and say that we have it hard today

Is like saying we have lost a toy.

They have lost everything.

And this girl's only dream was in her red dress;

a treasure holding a thousand horrifying memories.

~ Devon Clouse.