A CRY FOR REFUGEES

Tell me again about how our safety is number one? Tell me again about keeping strangers out? Tell me again about our plan to protect, protect, protect by closing doors, building walls, saying no? Tell me again about how much danger we're in? Tell me just once more about where the danger lies? In a toddler's bloody forehead, a father's desperate screams, a mother's feeble cries? Is the danger that my house might fall to pieces on my baby's sleeping head? Will I wake in the night to a ceiling on my bed? Tell me, please, will the rubble kill my soul? Because I'd sell my soul to the devil if it meant not one more blast from the sky. From the streets of a nation built on the foundation of a faith in a man who insisted we walk the extra mile, we hear screams of "keep them out" while the screams of the bloody, drowning, blown to bits go by, by, by. Tell me again about how our safety is number one? Tell me again about keeping strangers out? Tell me again about our plan to protect, protect, protect by closing doors, building walls, saying no? There's no room for you in the inn.