Footprints in the mud. I count them, one-by-one,
As little hands grasp my very own.
Eyes as bright as stars, haunted by their scars.
I see their gazes and I am undone.
Precious little lambs with tiny, fragile hands.
Forgotten, their voices go unheard.
Hungry with each day, their futures gone astray,
And yet, we still have never learned.
My dreams broken at night by the silence of their cries.
If they are thirsty, then so am I.
Together, let us speak out for the rights they seek.
Hand in hand, we can be a light.