Read an Excerpt
Child on the Beach
The Mediterranean is black with bodies
as in the time of the Trojan Wars
when Homer sang of bloody battles
& heroes lay unburied
beneath the topless towers of Troy.
But this little boy of three
sleeps unburied on a beach.
Where is he from?
The chemical fog of Syria?
The garbage dumps of beautiful Beirut?
The chaos of civilization come undone?
He rests,
his parents lost,
his sisters drowned,
his brother thrown up on another beach . . .
What shall I do
with this dead toddler
who breaks me open to grief?
I will adopt him,
my nameless grandson,
welcome him into my shattered breast,
his death so sweet even cherubs weep
& Nereids float him in their seaweed boats . . .
Little one,
now you are mine—
sleep in my arms while I sing you this lullaby . . .
maybe you’ll awaken in a kinder world
where children don’t die at the edge of the sea.
Meanwhile, dream of peace
for this broken world.
