The stranded child lay flat on ground,
His smile is in misery, his toes are in doubt.
In nature he finds his mother, in its sanctity his god.
Numb are the lips,
Torn, dry and cracked.
In utter isolation, his voice is sacked.
His eyes randomly search
people, food and his good home earth.
His tears flow streaming into the land,
Dreams of union, sandcastles in sand.
His limbs are small but his needs are dire,
He has a little heart, but his emotions sit on pyre.
He looks to the sky too high, The tall trees and the black nights closing upon,
He has not lost nor will he lose,
He counts his breath as in time he drowns.
Oh, higher winds of the world!
Take away his word to the world,
Bitten by untimely things, a childhood lost and ruined.
Help must come till hopes are ablaze,
Or nothing may be left that you collect.
The land must be tilled,
The heaven with sun-rays filled,
Before all is dampened by sorrow.