Thinking of the Picture of the Syrian Child, Drowned
One knows instinctively what it is to carry
such a boy,
let’s say from a car
after a long trip’s drive,
the slumbering dangle
of the little lower legs
weighted by shoes that look almost as large
for his feet (fine as a chirping bird’s)
as his small child’s head
for his small child’s body,
the rims leaden
about the slim ankles–
Someone strapped them on
so carefully, bending down
before the boy,
someone wanting to keep those shoes
from getting lost, someone wanting to keep
the boy’s feet warm, safe.
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Draft poem about the very sad story of the Syrian refugee family, capsized off the coast of Turkey; the photo of one of the drowned sons, Aylan Kurdi, age 3, has become very famous. I am not posting a pic here. This poem is still being revised; I am linking to The Bardo’s 100TPC event.
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