Children Drowning

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.

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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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