by Lizz Murphy

The quiet of an infant
who understands nothing
of war or flight or why
he sleeps under just a jacket
Refugees crowding one side
police crowding the other
His eyes his chest
tomorrow’s tear gas burn

—

She survives the rocket
survives the roof falling
survives the brain hemorrhage
survives her jaw breaking
A girl silenced

—

All year they flop on filthy cardboard
backs to the wind hoods up for a whit
of warmth Grenades left behind
bodies of family She is afraid of ‘bad boys’
They are not safe on these streets either

—

She covers her face
with her headscarf
and a beautiful hand
Her sleeping infant
limp-limbed across her lap
Her grief as unshakeable
as the slammed iron gate

From an ekphrastic sequence in response to images from a photo-story by award winning photojournalist Magnus Wennman titled Where the Children Sleep published at Mashable Australia. My thanks to Magnus Wennman.

© Lizz Murphy 2017