I find the image haunting

I find the image haunting
yet somewhere in my head
I’m desperate to believe
that little boy’s not dead

I wish that he was sleeping
gently carried to his bed
his mom would tuck him in
and kiss his sweet forehead

He would awake in safety
with dreams within his head
of play and books and friends and fun
instead of strife and dread

What will those young remember
of those of us who can
provide the sanctuary
the humanity of man

We are all gifts of hazard
our home assigned by fate
we do not get to choose
which side of the gate

My Canada includes
those so desperate to flee
they’d risk their lives and family
to escape by cruellest sea

Once not so long ago
my boys were 3 and 5
I looked at them today
and tears did fill my eyes

I still have what they lost
so many miles away
and all we had to do
was welcome them to stay

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