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Sunday, 10 August 2014

THE GAP BETWEEN OUTSTRETCHED HANDS


I heard about a refugee walking away from his home,
fleeing with hundreds of others to wherever the road led,
when he saw a child hurt in a ditch and weakened at her yelp,
pleading for someone to notice, crying out for anyone to help.

Trying to stand still in the slow-slick of human weariness,
the man was in more than two minds, momentarily focused
on this small human object, locked in a stare, eye with eye, breath with breath,
the gap between outstretched hands, the distance between them.......
the distance between his life and her death.

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