Utopia

For the torment in the hearts of the refugees fleeing Syria who are trapped between a world destroyed and a future that is uncertain………..

The little boy lay still,

fully clothed.

His lifeless body limp,

washed ashore.

Murdered by a tide of baseless hatred,

Of senseless terror.

Radiant dreams his parents held

crushed,

Hope that flickered in their heart

extinguished…

An open  flame on a gusty day.

Heartbreaking………..

Miles away I watch

the crisis unfold.

tears stream down my cheeks,

Stories of pain, of families torn

who have given up all they have known

They walk miles

Wait on railway tracks

Charter hostile waters

starved, parched

in pursuit of  simple joys, peace,

and a sense of togetherness without fear

only to be cruelly turned away !

Stories of mothers who yearn to cook

a meal for the ones they love,

Of fathers who cherish the day they

will come home to watch their little ones

play in abandon,

a day without violence, without terror.

I cry because

I live their dream and yet

I fret about

a pile of dirty dishes

(remnants of a meal well enjoyed)

toys strewn around

after a playdate

(The house still echoes with the laughter

of children allowed to express joy freely)

no bombs falling, no bullets flying.

They risk their lives for this ….

their utopia.

I cry because I now value

my mundane perfect life.

– vidya.

Standard