Half the World Away

A poem about apathy towards the Syrian refugee crisis, or any world crisis we fail to empathize with.

She needed a name, she needed a face, she needed some more paper plates

Paper plates, scrambling for something misplaced, a faded bracelet tucked at her waist

Pomegranates turn bloodstains, half a world away, we text and pray  

Sometimes I wonder why I can't stay and feel the heat

Houses break at the seams, Smoke simmering through the screams

Human sorrows piling at her feet, as she looks to the sky, eyes wider than the space between

Her world and mine, can't you see, that she'll cross the sea

Pursuing amnesty among the debris

In search of an intact identity that would be hers to keep

But she's just a refugee, one of a handful of skittles

That mean nothing to you and me, can you see?

That her family are refugees, they don’t belong in the land of the free,

Half the world away, from sea to shining sea.