A social media post sent by a friend in the middle of the night, that prompted this piece.

A refugee camp in Syria
An eight year old with a sweater
And a warm glass of tea

His superpower a smile
That takes the warmth
Of his Syrian sun
And transports it into my bedroom
On a cold Seattle night.

He does not hold back
His wings spread he flies
And arrives here
Among friends.

In my mind
We sit in a circle on chipped cement
Pretending to be eight
Pretending to be together
Pretending to drink tea.

I plagiarize shamelessly
If I had a superpower
It would be to fly
I would tell other children
From around the world
To come and play with me
And my sisters and my friends
And together sit in the sun
Feel what it feels like

For a moment to be free.