Refugee

Fear is never a word that should describe “home”
Desperation has been defined
In the ruins of a father’s face
Crumpled helpless hands slack
Beneath the impossible weight of t-shirt, jeans, new sneakers
Soaking up the morning surf
Emblem of bodies throwing themselves
Into the thoughtless, indifferent waves.

All sense of direction is lost
Just how fast and how far
Clinging to scraps of what was a life
Finding a place where prayer and hope offer no comfort
As one hand let’s go of what can’t be saved
To clutch feverish at that which may still
How many times can anyone
Keep making Soloman’s choice?

Is there actual refuge?
Bereft of any dignity, hands in the air
All hope pinned upon humanity being remembered
By the terminally forgetful
Crying out for mercy only to have it fall
Upon ears dumb to the language,
The subtle speech of so much grief
Lost among the clamor of not our problem.