Refuge

I saw those ships
go sailing by…

When the boat drew near
it brought a boy
with long black hair
that caught my eye
and a woman who lost
her first born son
to falling walls
and angry men.

I saw those ships
go sailing by…

I watched the boat
list hard and tip
the little boy
off from the ship
and heard the screams
and smelled the fear
of mothers washed
with salty tears.

If my waves pushed high
my current strong
I would push the listing
boat along
then dip to lift
the drowning boy
and place him on
the sand to dry.

I would land those ships
and drive the trains
and welcome people
when they came
to share the shelter
and daily bread
that is not mine
but ours instead.

And though some say
it is naive
to practice what
our hearts believe
my hand is held
by others who
would reach out arms
of welcome too.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

4 thoughts on “Refuge”

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