Backseat refugees

He looked at me with holocaust eyes
With his deep chocolate penetrating blue ice
His fingers with a spider's grace,
Enwrapping themselves around mine.
Maybe things would not be okay.
As the windows fogged over, the only heat
Radiating from our bodies,
Covered in blankets, entangled together
Brother and sister.
And I so wanted to believe my own words
That everything would be okay
Finally, everything would be okay
But I was well aware that it would not be
Things would never be the same

And he shivered, not with cold
But with fear - we would never see
Or speak, or love, or laugh, or cry
With our family again - we were
Our family. We were our life
We were all we had any more
And this sent shivers through me

But not once did we cry.
Not once did we sit there and feel
Sorry for ourselves
We had done what was right
Hadn't we?
We had.

And we laid there in the back of
That car,
Holding on to the hope we had
And praying for new hope
Hoping for new prayers

Prayers and hopes are simply not enough anymore.