For #Aylan

 

Mommy I’m cold

and tired

of the waves

washing over me.

Storms forced us to sail

far from home

to strange new lands

where hearts can freeze.

Their blood is boiling

not for us,

but for a better future

we also seek.

Their doors are shut

to preserve the warmth

we don’t feel

while wandering

through borders and streets.

Where can I rest,

Mommy?

Perhaps on this beach

where the angry hands

no longer touch me.

Sorry to leave you

amid endless empty words

and statistics.

 

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