Face-down on a beach
the drowned child.
You saw the photo.
Arms at his sides,
red shirt, blue shorts
salt-soaked by the generous sea
Can you bear to imagine
his last moments?
his uncomprehending terror?
Turn your eyes away.
You say everything happens for
a reason; the reasons
are fear and greed and
innocence desecrated
Have we silently agreed
that what we thought was God
is something else, entire?
Children are drowned; no
godly power is required.
# # #
Keith Welch lives in Bloomington, Indiana, and dabbles in poetry. He’s been published here and there, including the Dime Show Review, Volume 2, Issue 2. He enjoys meeting other poets and invites you to follow him at @Outraged_Poet on Twitter. Read more here: http://keithwelchpoetry.blogspot.com
Photo: Danielle MacInnes
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