The child gripped her father as the waves bounded over their boat,
and beneath it too. Lifting it high only to crash it down into the cold,
cold waters of the North Sea. The salty sea water soaked her hair, her
clothes and slowly the dreadful, creaking carcass of wood cracking, and
groaning; split, and rotted planks fell away leaving the poor
sailors staring sightless at the cruel, cruel sea, while governments
talked endlessly of ways and means and blocks earning money and
spending it fruitlessly; refusing to spend it on the seekers and cruel,
cruel men and women stared sightless at the little body: a sign to the
world of the cost of freedom in a world bound to violence.
