The boy stood on the burning deck
sun scorching skin
and salt seared lips,
and still she stood
and still he searched
til a shocking shout,
“Bloody hell!”
“We’ve found them!”
———————————
An ark of horror,
a wallowing craft
sinking slowly,
and bodies bobbing
and cherished children,
and wounded women,
wracked and weary,
staring in shocked silence.
—————————
They lower the ship’s boat.
They’re saving who they can,
treating black burnt skin
thirst, and terrible trauma;
and still they die
to be buried at sea
save a scarred shattered few.
—————————-
They try a port and try again
the crew begging for mercy;
and still, authorities cry out,
“We’re not having them!’
And they loath the little faces,
the outstretched hands
and rook their rights.
——————————–
