Wilted Flower

After changing his diaper, I laid his weak, bony body on a blanket on the floor. We will have to rearrange kids again to make a bed available for him in the ICU. He blinks ever so slowly, exhausted from his day of travel to Cazale and being shuffled around through the admission process. His parents are dead, his aunt and uncle care for him. But they have 5 other mouths to feed first. This little guy...he's withering away, like a wilted flower. Without the right foods, he will die. The aunt says they don't have enough money to travel each week to bring him here for Medika Mamba and the required check-ups. The decision was made to admit him. So he won't die. 

So.  He.  Won't.  Die.

Life and death here....the line between the two is something as simple as nutritious food. Food, for goodness sakes.

I kiss him on the cheek and tell him to sleep. He's safe here. And will eat here. Lord see these children in this broken world. Come quickly.