You come to me with your bag of sufferings,
from that place that ever
It harbored your best dreams,
and it was yours.
You arrive without telling your steps,
without travel bag and return ticket,
without itinerary of museums,
without a schengen visa.
You arrive, as you arrive at emergencies,
with a long nightmare in tow,
a boy lost in the fog
and your hands grabbing nothing.
And I do not dare to look at you,
to raise your hands to touch you,
to give you a smile even.
And you go on, to another country,
to another waiting to never finish.
While my humanity rejoices
not to walk on your hose,
without hardly realizing that
I could not enjoy this day
if it had not dawned
about your absence,
about your dead son,
about your destroyed country.
If they ever talk to you
of humanity,
tell them it's a place
where fears disappear
and a helping hand extends
to deliver your protection.