The sea
rocks tiny feet,
caresses small hands,
steals breath and rests
tiny bodies on the shore
where they’re at peace,
but out of reach
of their father’s desperate grasp.
The sea
rocks small boats,
of dubious sanctuary
and with each wave it tosses on the beach,
points foaming fingers at those
who turn faces from the tragedy.
.
.
I decided not to attach the iconic photo of Alan Kurdi to this poem out of respect. Instead, here is an interview with his father describing the tragedy.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/syria-migrants-canada-drowned-migrants-1.3213772
Shawn L. Bird 
Sad truth
Indeed.
Thanks for stopping by, Manny.
Stunning!
Thanks, Melody.
My heart is breaking. I can tell yours is too. How can we help? What can we do? I’ve been meditating, doing tonglen for them, breathing their suffering into my heart (which expands to receive it, as vast as the clear blue sky) and breathing out food, shelter, safety, strength, courage, peace, rest. I want to believe that this will help in some way.
Many communities locally are looking at sponsoring a family.
Ah, this is good. There are ways to help concretely.
Yes
Beautiful and heart-wrenching. Those poor Syrian kids 😦 we can only pray for them and for the world they never got to experience.
and their poor traumatized father who felt them slip from his fingers…
Reblogged this on Lenny's Blog and commented:
How did we get here?
The little martyr- what an indelible symbol of all that has gone wrong, in so many hearts!
Yes. Sweet little guy.