He runs fast
Torn feet
Fuelled by fear
A wielded machete
Leaves a father dead
In a final act to protect
Ishmil runs hard
Dust flies.  Lungs empty.
Memories are no friend
His little sister.  Too early to heaven.
To his knees he stumbles
No time.  No chances left
Get Up!  AND RUN
He remembers his Mamma
Her broken body in his arms
Carried.  Buried.  Loved.
He runs ever harder
He is fleeing
Distant shores beg a promise
A right
Punctured by indelible cruelty
Salt water stings
His cracked lips.
And on the boat
No need to run anymore
As he carries them all towards freedom