Wave of Hope

We will ride the Wave of Hope.

As we count to one-hundred and eighty,

Headscarves ten with Haggard men.

Fear and Freedom sit in proximity.

The boat groans as the sea moans.

Babies wail with the rain and hail

We will ride the Wave of Hope.

The people huddle to balance the sway as the tears roll away

Children cuddle and question their mothers.

Answers are folklore of the freedom of others.

We will ride the Wave of Hope.

Is the sea skeptic of our desires?

Is my war fair and foul?

We will not know. We just want to go.

We will ride the Wave of Hope.

Gash of the sea is a lash to my plea.

The men grasp the edges of the rubber boat.

The teens share the arm of the soaking wet coat.

The flag pin pokes at the heart as we start to fall over.

A child clings to the leg to beg, mama stay. 

She swims away.

Under the wave.

The rubber boat turns when the sea churns.

Ferocious flips as it rips apart.

The cries depart.

The salty water enters our heart.

Can we swim. No. We are tired. We cannot breathe.

The long walk to the barbed serpent through the desert storm put sand in our pocket.

We are heavy. 

The water hurts as we breathe it in.

It is dark under the wave. 

We sleep and float.

My body moved in with the wave, 

and washed, ashore with Hope.

You took my picture for the other humans to show, how we rode the Wave of Hope.

The white bag over me. I am tugged.

The count is not one- hundred and eighty.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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