For Aylan and Ghalib Kurdi

I hold my grandchild in my arms —
he is kicking and wiggling
and my heart is tender.

Why is my heart so indifferent
until I see another woman’s
cheek to the sand, red shirt?

Aylan and Ghalib,
are my grandchildren
and they are yours as well,

when they laugh, kick a soccer ball,
when they start
their adventure to hope.

We must not wait
for photographs of sorrow.

We who live
the world’s yachted lives
are journey-keepers,
for all the grandchildren.

They are, in so many ways,
in fragile and dangerous
small boats.

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2 Responses to For Aylan and Ghalib Kurdi

  1. says:

    I wept when I saw the photos of the bodies on the beach. Thanks for this meditation.

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