Toes curl below ragged skirts, 

her eager eyes lit with meager heat, 

a single match. 

Visions of food, of shelter, of home 

all she wants

diners devour meat 

girl devours sight 

night devours flame. 

 

Children face guns, crowd camps, brave seas. 

They wash up on our shore, 

matted, 

bloodied, 

filthy with their own hopes. 

They strike the match, 

flame never comes. 

 

I fight to place the words on screen 

delete the syllables, they seem 

inadequate. 

I could go to them. 

I could leave my couch but for the fear 

that I will see their eyes. 

 

The Matchstick Girl died in that snow, 

rags her shroud, 

the corpse of fire her companion. 

Families laughed around her 

brick walls between her 

and them. 

They shut her out. 

 

we do the same. 

there is no change in the world. 

PROGRESS we shout PROGRESS 

the stars have no answer 

THE PAST IS DEAD 

but we are the same. 

 

stand up 

stop hate 

go help

 

It's all I have in this world

where children still die when they could be saved

if we chose to be moved.