The azure sky, the swirling waters presented a picturesque backdrop
The tourists, backpackers heaved a sigh of relief
All were far from the maddening crowd
On a quest to find inner peace.
Then they saw what looked like a log
Washed ashore.
The log made headlines and occupied reams of paper.
What had seemed to be a log was actually a toddler.
Child of a lesser God- a refugee
Uprooted from a secure haven by internal strife.
Squeezed into a tiny boat , packed like sardines.
Refugees drift on a glimmer of hope
There will be a space to call their own.
Is the Mother Earth too small to accommodate,
Too constricted to offer refugees a new identity ?

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prema balaji

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I am a teacher and love to write in my spare time. I worked for a while as a journalist but now find teaching children to be my true calling.
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