Bodies in the Waves.

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.


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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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