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The Crossing


Waterlogged, in the shed tears of a storm’s cry

Dinghy souls crouched, frightened, beneath bedraggled rags

Their sound future sought. It’s unimaginably hard to deny.

National pride unencumbered by their tattered flags


Please don’t consider them aliens from a faraway foreign land

But world brothers, fearful parents, young children needing care

They should be warmly welcomed, not politically banned

Let our nation be their safe refuge, our sanctuary shared


Our culture is of opened hearts and opened doors

Welcoming many bruised, battered, and distraught refugees

Desperately escaping cruel regimes, despots, and brutal wars

With downcast eyes, each silently pleading, ‘’Please Rescue Me.’’


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