And people saw and they did weep
That tiny child in final sleep
Cast up like flotsam on a beach
That such sad lesson laid out to teach.

Émigré , or refugee
The difference here is plain to see
The one will leave with life intact
The other’s world has been ransacked.

They flee from rape, and death and wars
Pay so much money to trafficking whores
Who promise that they will be alright
Such hollow words, such desperate plight.

Yet still the billionaires wring hands
They make their guns to sate demands
And more young man and women die
But they don’t care, they wouldn’t cry.

For where there’s guns there will be war
Caught in the crossfire are the poor
Protagonists though should not be vague
But tried for their crimes at The Hague.

Yet sadly, it was ever thus
Brushed under carpets, much less fuss
We have to get to grips with peace
Or life on Earth may surely cease.

©Joe Wilson – When?…2015

A small tribute to Aylan Kurdi (an innocent boy aged only 3)