Small lives

The Celtic sea that I look out on in wonder

at its infinite beauty and power is no different

to the sea that brings only terror and death

to those who have no choice but to flee

the villages of their birth and homes.

And these children, my children, who

I look at in wonder through their birth and growing,

are no different to the children whose small lives

are risked by parents with wonder and love in their hearts,

infinite in exactly the same way as mine.

Yet it gapes between us, this human space, messily cluttered

with fear and loss and different ways of living and dying