A child can only look on knees,

frail, loud, loving and free,

hunting beetles, shedding tears,

smelling the earth, ‘It’s nearer to me!’

—

A child can only look on knees,

and spider webs’ silvery droplets,

marvelling at the moon and stars,

splashing in cool, cerulean seas.

—

A child can only look on knees,

huddled in a dirty darkling hold,

fear circling like a vulture around,

the sound of crashing waves abound.

—

The creaking groaning of timbers change

and all is terror, horror, stygian screams,

huddled in a drowning night, grabbing

at straws, stolen lives,  lost dreams.

—

Hope and loss watch the boats come in,

sailors, hearts lurching, seared by sight,

tears track down the saviours cheeks,

the bowed heads of the searching blight.

—

I feel the drip of fathers’ tears, 

disturbing,         the ebbing cruel tide 

flowing from a pool of desperation and 

fury at profiteers, tyrants, traffickers.

—

He looked at the lost little bodies,

Pierced hands hugged each precious tiny form,

‘The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to these,’

he said to the indifference of greed.

—-

My eyes turned to him and felt his pain,

‘Who will go?’ he asked.

‘Who will go on their knees?