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Seema Nov 2017
My child I dearly pray
The wrong doers will pay
Your life was priceless
To some meaningless
You had a golden smile
Tho so far, so many miles
If I had you here with me
You would have been alive to see
There are those who have lost
Beautiful innocence by cost
I am deeply hurt reading about you
My heart cried tho I don't know you
The red t-shirt you wore last
Will alway remind me of this past
Why your family had to flee?
Why authorities ignore your plea?
Why the boat capsized in the ocean?
Why was there no precaution?
Why the world had to see you washed on the shore?
Laying face down on the Turkish shore
Such a beautiful child, how many more!
The aches getting worse as I see your face
You left every heart to break where we trace
It was not you fault, Oh baby boy!
You were thrown off board like a broken toy
May the good spirits guide your soul
Don't you worry, these ruthless will burn in hole
Even hell might reject them for achieving such goal
You were a Syrian prince, one can hint
Your tragic death would stay as an imprint...




©sim
Wrote this in 2015, after this tragedy shown in all news channel.

My prayers goes to thee and the others who were also the victims, R.I.P Thy Souls in peace:
"Aylan Kurdi, three year old
Brother Galip Kurdi, five year old
Mother Rihan"
Ayesha Dec 2020
on these waves, quiet crawls
war, with fish, plays; stillness laughs
since you, no more, do.

it's not fair, Aylan.
why'd you leave mother again?
for that heartless land

Ghalib weeps in sleep
says you went to see baba.
Aylan, why'd you go?

out the sea’s warm arms?
—that shore is cold as people
people cold as ice

sleep on Aylan— they
can hear now; you, your people.
Syria and you.

you've sparked up a flame
but don't you see? they love flames—
smokes, blasts and rubbles

can't you read the winds?
say they, stay far from humans
say they, please come back

wont you please come back?
to these safe waters, Aylan.
we're calling for you.

we're calling for you.
you who the fireflies await
we're calling for you.
we're calling for you
Scott Jurewicz Nov 2019
(an elegy for Aylan Kurdi)

carried on the foam white crest
on wood on water on sand
the cruelty that must be jest
has washed across our land

once i knew a fine young boy
who looked with sad old eyes
upon his own dear life's joy
and the happiness that lies

lift me up my last old friend
my finally, again last chance
my dear beginning and my end
my fleeting final glance

— The End —