She stood behind her bulky mother
At the eye doctor’s reception desk
A two-year-old figure
With a gloomy, adult face
Her tiny countenance
A Greek mask of tragedy
Was it a child–or was it a dwarf?
She did not smile or giggle
She did not skip or look around
Nor did she pester her mother with a thousand whys
As children are wont to do
Was she afraid?
She did not hold her mother’s hand
Nor cling to her hem
Her mother did not glance back
To check on her whereabouts
Was this her child?
I searched for the girl’s eyes
Wanting to ask her
Why are you so sad?
She did not notice me or anyone
Was she blind?
Was she a kidnapped child?
Drugged into resignation of her fate?
The doctor called my name
When I returned to the waiting room
The girl and her mother were gone