Gentle

 Refugee Child

Safely cradled in her mother’s arms

Huge blue-green eyes stare at my unfamiliar face

The longest lashes, the clearest skin.

And as I stroke her so soft cheek

She quiets, becomes dreamy as the gentle music plays.

I am struck then by her innocence

The unknowing of her place in history

Yet to learn of her country

Her need now of sanctuary

Never to be held by her parents’ family

This daughter conceived in war, oppression and loss

Born in an alien land 

And as we sit and hold each other’s stare 

I pray for her to grow deep roots of belonging

I whisper hope for her life to come

And I gently tell her she is welcome here.

Barbara Matthews