Mohammed al-Dura was 12 when he was shot and killed during an exchange of fire between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian demonstrators on September 30, 2000. The final few seconds of his life, when he crouched in terror behind his father, Jamal, and then slumped to the ground after bullets ripped through his torso, were captured by a television camera and broadcast around the world. That story, and the grief his father must still feel today, has haunted me from the time I first heard it.

All the world sleeps,
but my grief and anger
remain wide awake,
settled dark and heavy
over my heart. 
I see the moment
as if it were yesterday:
Pain and I united as one,
witnessing our last hug,
his last blink,
last tears,
last breath.
The sun vanished then.
Stillness and darkness
surrounded me,
forever haunting my world.
I miss you, my son.
One, two, three,
19 years have passed.
Everything still echoes your name.
To me, you are still 12;
you never grow up,
never die.
You live in my heart.
We're never apart.
My sadness is bottomless,
while the world sleeps.