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
One thought on “Small lives”
How incredibly beautiful and moving….love this, Paula. It says it all.