Bodies and souls from
distraught lands shell out
thirty pieces of silver
to ride the waves to freedom.
Finding too late
that they have
paid the price of their
own betrayal,
overfilled, leaky craft
capsize, spilling warm blooded
cargo into cold blue seas

Souls float above
Broken bodies float below.
Some, still alive grab onto bits
and pieces of their dream
long enough for
those few who care to
to reach them, pull them out, —
But it is not well.
No, it is not well for their souls
nor for ours.

© 2019, Joan Leotta