Open your eyes.

Open your eyes.
Too many children lying
broken on the ground.
Too many children are
Floating, sinking,
Washing up like driftwood on beaches.
Open your eyes.
Too many children are
Walking vast distances,
Crossing closed borders and
Sleeping in tents in the mud.
And parents mourn and move on.
And the media mourns and moves on.
And the ghosts of the children
Float in the air, float in the water,
Small fingers reaching out uselessly now.


Sent from my iPhone