Were one sound
It would be the ripples Bourne
From trauma to the water
Repeating the same shape through generations.
If today’s sound could be bottled,
The echos of angry words could shatter glass
If you could feel today,
It would be eerily familiar and angrily condemned
If you could see today, you would see
I told you sos,
from all the people who escaped the water,
Between volleys of glass, and, stones and needles, and hopelessness.
Today is watching another boy drown
From a riverbank.