Tears For The Little Syrian Boy

Terry Hopper

Luton, Bedfordshire

United Kingdom

 

Don’t turn away and hide your face,
It’s not the time, it’s not the place,
Look at me, stand and stare,
Lifeless and listless do you care?
My only crime was to be born,
Three years ago in a place war torn,
My short lived life, my mother’s tears,
Hopes and dreams destroyed by fears,
And as the world turns inside out,
Back to front and full of doubt,
My picture goes around the earth,
Governments decide what we are worth,
An immigrant, or a refugee,
Is that your eyes can see,
Human beings are we not the same,
Being used as pawns in a political game,
For now my life has ended here,
On a beach somewhere, so far so near
Close to freedom, a promised land,
As waves crash over, covered in sand,
My life cut short, my screams lay still,
How many more, take the bitterest pill,
Don’t let my passing be in vain,
For I was one of many who came,
And as you lay your head for sleeping,
And hear your child who’s gently weeping,
Remember me, awash the deep blue sea,
No mother’s arms to comfort me,
Take a moment, maybe three of four
Think of those displaced by war,
For a better life, peace and care,
A world where everyone can share,
So as I lay here in the surf,
My life cut short, three years since birth,
My name is Aylan, please don’t label me,
I was a child … and not just another refugee

Bio: Terry dedicates this piece and gives thoughts to Aylan the little Syrian boy who died and was washed up on the beach.