How shall we hold the suffering of the many
who leave their homes
to cross the sea in broken boats,
fleeing war or poverty,
leaving behind a hat or shoe to
wash up one day on a distant shore?

We must hold their desperation as our own
so it does not become a prison
with no exit.
We must hold their pain as our own
so they do not suffer it alone.

We, the creators of these boats,
are the redeemers of their desperation.
Our neglect is the root of this passage,
and our caring its redemption.

For even as one crossing that risks all is made,
and as one life is lost,
we become diminished by the tears
that no longer fall into our hearts,
moistening the ground of our eternal love.
We become diminished,
and must weep for ourselves as well.