For Alan Kurdi, The Little Syrian Boy

This is for Alan Kurdi, a three year old boy who drowned on september 2nd 2015 in the mediterranean sea, while fleeing civil war in Syria. Who was later coined the Little Syrian Boy. Alan, We still remember your name. This is for your brother, Galip, And your mother Rehan, whose tomb goes unmarked in Those frigid waters. For your family, rejected Asylum and forced to flee Unaided into The unforgiving current. For your father’s sister, A hairdresser in Vancouver, Whom you never reached, Who had to see you washed up on beach that would Never know the feeling of your toes wiggling in its sands, To know that you would never smile for her again. This is for your father. Who has been quoted saying there is nothing left for him. Everything he wanted, everything he left for, is gone. You were just a little boy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that your life was as politicized as your death is. Never held at anything but base value. I’m sorry that your death is mourned By the same people who would have taken it from you This is for the little Muslim girl, Who hides the quran in the bottom of her bookbag wrapped in cloth. You will told that By studying your faith you Are destruction. Remember to prove them wrong. Do not fall into the trap of becoming what everyone else will already see you as Remember you are a flower, Even when they treat You like a weed. You will still blossom just as sweetly. You will be told you are oppressed Before you are told you beautiful Or kind Or human Before you are even old enough to know what it means And they will call your brother evil, Make monsters under the bed out of the image of your father. When the teacher at school calls you terrorist, remember that Your mother used to sing you songs of your people. Remember how ignorance is the only killer, And pity those who live their lives afraid of little girls. BE angry. Be angry that you cannot read the teachings of your faith in peace Be angry that you are politicized, That people are taught to fear you in schools, Be angry at Mitch McConnell, Who passes legislature against your existence. Scream at the top of your lungs. Kick a wall. You should be angry. This is for every child growing up in a world that wishes it could pluck you At the root. You are not terror. You are good in a world that Has lost the ability to love, And you, My brothers and sister, Children of the world, There is still hope. I may never know what it is, The pain you suffer at the hands of the many, But I will stand with you. I will shout with you. And I will be angry.