Pull all the weeds away.
Rows of caravans- unwavering oceans
- cold, ****** tides; under and over
the wandering moons and the weeping stars
Grab by the necks and
pull the unwelcomed out-
this sacred dirt will have no more.
Pull out, like the sea did in-
Echoing, chocking, musical screams
Bloming, wilting, weightless beings
Once more yet once more!
Come! The hungry void will hold some more.
Once more then once more!
How many were not puked out on the shore-
Rugged beds stabbing the skins
pre-engraved with tales untold.
dripping canvas of bruised camps
Let the clouds bleed over; they stained our
streets with their spitting wounds.
Let the winds wash away, far from here.
Take them along, O draining sun!
These dirt-stained faces can't blend in ours
unborn shivering, tired in wombs-
newborn silent, still as windless skies.
Once more yet once more!
Come! The starving dirt will take more treats
Once more then once more!
How many were sublimed off on the streets-
Flocks of lambs, follow they, the burning sun
Broken glass- scattered shards- missing, lost
Snarling lions, waiting, in bushes- in bygone homes
Thirsty seas, desperate for survivors- forgotten shores
Tempted despair, devours and embraces the petite lives
Impatient death being impatient death ebbing them away.
Uninvited unbidden unaccepted unwanted-
embers roaming the vacant sky, searching home.
Pull all the weeds away
- this is not their home.
- in memory of the boy who knew the secrets of ocean and beyond- Alan Kurdi- and all the children and maidens and men who dream of going home.