Thursday, July 29, 2010


AP photo/David Brauchli

Sister Refugee,
your hopeless, tear-streaked face
looks out at me
from my tv screen
and I recognize
how easily
it might have been
I finding myself
sitting in your place.

It could so easily be
me instead of you
on that muddy hillside
in the rain,
looking so tired and old,
so resigned and full of pain,
cradling a sleepy grandchild
against the bitter cold.

What do we know or care
of politics?
Our lives are about love,
and keeping children safe.
We walk the same earth,
share the sky above;
that yours rains bombs
and mine rains tears
a trick of fate
that could just as easily
this time next year.

photo by BBC
Your eyes meet mine
across the miles
with bitter dread.
In the midst of
all this folly
how do we keep the children fed?
How nurture the future,
how hang on to hope,
when life hangs
by such a fragile thread?

We both agree
that this is not
The Way,
are helpless
but to endure,
having no say,
until the tide
can turn
and turn
once more,
tossing us up
upon a kinder shore.


  1. This is such a touching poem, Sherry..we mothers are the same the world over, wanting only to nurture our children against all odds. I experienced a similar dichotomy in as the pampered tourist a harsh contrast to barefoot mothers unable to buy uniforms to enrol their kids in school.

    I like to think that if women ruled the world, we would be closer to universal parity!

  2. 'how easily
    it might have been
    reversed...' These words gripped my heart in their veracity. It is so easy for us to forget the suffering of one is the suffering of all.

    Thank you for reading and commenting on my blog, Sherry. I look forward to reading more of your work.


  3. wonderful... the thoughts and concerns as well as the expression!

  4. Thank you so much for your kind words.......yes, mothers would make far different decisions on a global platform. Thanks so much for visiting:)


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