In the midst of tragedy and suffering there is the earth’s insistent beauty.
A Syrian boy sits Alone on a plastic chair Covered in soot His child hand wiping his brow His eyes recognize It is his blood He solemnly transfers Across his shirt.
Having been pulled For an hour from the rubble Too traumatized to cry As he surely did When he was pulled from his mother Brought into this world In a war torn region.
When will we listen When will we hear The cries of the earth As well as our own We her children?
How do we juxtapose the earth’s insistent beauty and the horrors that were done to this Syrian boy.
Lori Cole
This article appears in Inside Bayview Heights.