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 tyrants, profiteers, 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?
A child has only eyes for knees.’
