Thursday, September 3, 2015

I see #Aylan #refugeecrisis #eu #ireland

I dressed my son for school today
I thought of Aylan
I thought, as I wrote my child's name on his jumper
Is this how they would identify him
In the salt tears of the sea
If we were at war
If we fled?

My youngest lies in bed
Just as Aylan lies on the beach
But mine is safe
Because we won a lottery before birth
Born on the right patch of spinning rock
At the right time
In the right skin.

One hundred and sixty years earlier
I would crowd my children onto coffin ships
Ignore the taunts of dirty irish
Scrabble for work or scraps
or beg or steal or walk with bleeding feet
And they would tut at the state of us
The starving irish.

In the veins of my children runs the blood
Of a mother who saved her two year old
From famine and death
By doing these things
And worse
When I close my eyes
I see Aylan
But he has the face of my own child

(If you share this please also note there are practical things you can do -

Thank you)