This image of a child with a dirt-streaked face and wrapped in a blanket is meant to symbolize the many unaccompanied children who are presently in camps all over Europe after fleeing wars in their home countries. I drew this to accompany the following poem explaining their plight further and which has been posted on FanStory. Thanks for taking the time to review if you do! R

No One Doubts The Dead

From war-torn homes and in the dead
Of night, across the sea we fled.
The sea - the watery graves of those
Whom death has spared our further woes.
About our dead, no one has doubts;
They cannot be denied handouts,
Nor stand accused of heinous crimes,
Nor seen as portents of hard times,
Nor deemed feral beasts to be caged
And bear the smears of the outraged,
Nor be pawns in the games kings play-
They are not forced to give away
Their scant effects. Beneath the sea
The dead still have their dignity.
There they float free whilst I am stuck
Between worlds frothing with ill luck;
Between death and ignominy,
Which would you choose if you were me?