Weep, cry, wail, mourn, grieve
for refugees coming
across rough seas
on an over-crowded
raft or the immigrants
risking midnight run
through wild desert
all young sex slaves
and child brides who
grow up/old too fast
on twisted un-love of
a childhood missed,
an innocence lost
the wives who feel
un-cherished or the
husbands who are
under-appreciated
and senior citizens
who go unnoticed
the friends, family
who suffer alongside
those held hostage
by mental illness or
cancer’s grip or HIV
no good end in sight
for unborn babies
denied of person-
hood and a life, seen
as inconvenience and
an inter-ruption with
no voice or sanctuary
all victims of terror-ism
by wrong religion or
wrong politics or being
simply in wrong place
at the wrong time in a
wrong-headed world,
sick from sin, weary of the wait, longing for home.
a poem in my pocket 