Beslan- Russia 2004

Under a free sky — today on a beach in Australia— I gathered from a white sand beach—ancient, sea-worn shells. Another world away they gathered up the siege-worn bodies of their children. As I rinsed my weathered treasures— in crystal blue, ocean waves —they were burying their innocents, lowering them into early graves. All around me freedom shimmered, while they—grief stricken—had helpless tears. Tears that shone on white, shocked cheeks. I felt the sun warm on my skin— while they felt the deep chill of evil—mocking them. I think I know how precious freedom is— while they are sure of it— as they bury their dreams with their children. Children they would have died for. In the face of such callous cruelty—we feel helpless— as helpless as they must feel. Gulls hover above me —like thoughts— that go out to them on freedom's wings.