Undocumented

Undocumented

written by: Andrada Costoiu

@Andradac73

The sun above is scorching the playground,
The child burns his fingers on the only swing,
From outside the walls the eyes are watching,
His every move, his everything.
The camp keeps other people that fled from war- thorn place,
The snipers are now far, but other jailors rule this space.

A sad national symbol that flies above the ground,
Had stamped undocumented the boy’s and other souls
And locked them up because they made it,
While buried free the souls that drowned.

Pushing his legs the child is swinging higher in the sun,
Oblivious to man-made rules that shouldn’t,
Build cages for the lives of people like him,
Or for the lives of anyone.

Perhaps one day the current faith in borders,
Will dissipate just like the air under his swing,
Leaving the truth, good morals, justice and good conscience,
To document belonging to a society where fair will be the king.

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Andrada Costoiu

Andrada Costoiu spent her young years in communist Romania until she left with only two suitcases to the land where all her dreams will come true. She now lives in California with her family, where she spends her time between academic research and writing stories that come from her heart. Her academic work and her literary endeavors have been published in various international journals and publications. She is the author of the poetry collection “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love.” She enjoys writing on the deep sense of life and on philosophical questions. You can find more of her writing at her personal blog: Andrada’s world, where she frequently writes about her experiences, events and people that are an inspiration to her.

Latest posts by Andrada Costoiu (see all)

• Undocumented - December 10, 2020
• Wishing On Dandelions - September 5, 2020
• The “Go Away” Gnome - July 3, 2020