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A Greater Loss<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n by Jenny Mitchell<\/em><\/p>\n The first report is of a dozen migrants \u2013 As the camera swerves, it reveals a house A church is underneath the foam, a giant Libraries are washed up next, empty now Museums start to tilt, artifacts drift off, When the camera moves again, a woman calls \u00a0<\/p>\n
eight men, three women and a child
battered on the rocks, boat a pile of sticks
floating on the surface with the dregs of clothes.<\/p>\n
beneath the waves, a small brick shack,
the kind a family builds by hand, enlarges
over generations, bodies on the roof.<\/p>\n
baroque raft that\u2019s sunk, people floating
near the steeple. When the camera pans inside,
there are children on the pews, at the feet of Christ.<\/p>\n
of books, dirty water rolling into cabinets,
tables bobbing with computers smashed
against the shore as waves beat hard.<\/p>\n
decorate the surf. Gold and silver goblets
sparkle in the sun, noble heads of bronze
weighed down by people clinging tight.<\/p>\n
for help, pulls herself onto a rock, whispering
these words My country is out there<\/em>. She points
towards the sky, a dazzling blue.<\/p>\n