“Gates to Hell”

How long until we’re there, Mama?

The dark haired by asks

His innocent eyes sparkle

But the joy in him is missing

It is his tears that are catching the light

She reaches over and squeezes his cold hand

Tries to pull him closer

Space is already too cramped

Damp, stale, the stench is overpowering

She casts a helpless glance to her husband

He sits, frozen

Wedged between suitcases and fallen bodies

His eyes are silent, staring forward

Unresponsive

A tear slips down her cheek

And the yellow on his left is momentarily

Blurred

Is this our fate?

She cries out; nobody listens

Each one consumed in their own world

Of tears and solidarity

An ear piercing whistle

Followed by a terrified scream

The doors are wrenched open and they all get a glimpse.

The Gates to Hell.