I look at the streams of tears
That runs down her cheeks
Tiny hands that were meant to build castles in the sand,
now wiping tears ….
The sandy beaches,
A place for family gathering,
Turned into a burning pyre,
Crashing her world apart …
Endless fighting,
Endless waiting,
How many more hands to wipe the tears?
How many more to sacrifice their childhood?
How many more to be denied love?
Before we stem this tide of hatred.
Endless questions,
The deep void in her eyes refuses to fill itself
with diplomatic excuses and
debates on contexts and pretexts.
No words,
No loud protests cheer her up.
She stands with millions, yet alone
With her own story of pain
A story that has no voice…
A story that is in her eyes,
The eyes that saw it all…
When she was making castles in the sand!
« return.