The Refugee Run
Born in the African horn,
In a village, warn torn,
Tired of life, on a gloomy morn,
Took a fateful decision alone.
Left them behind - my loving family,
Knew they’d cry and mourn,
When they find out, I was gone.
A few pennies and old clothes,
Daring the Sirocco, as it blows,
Through Sahara's blazing sands,
Reached the shores of Fezzan.
Five hundred more were jostling for a chance,
To find a tight place on that boat to France,
My turn, it only came past day twenty,
And they told me,
You will go if you have the money.
Screaming in fear on that dinghy,
Tossing around in the Mediterranean Sea,
It brought me to the camps of Lesbos,
My wounded sanity, I began to lose.
Dirty and grimy, hopeless and morose,
In that flailing broken tent, I froze,
That is when someone told me,
Lovely Australia is the place to be.
Put my life into his greedy hands,
The human smuggler, he took me thru’ badlands,
But the guardians of the sea, down under,
To Manus, they screamed, after my surrender.
A long way had I come, forlorn,
From the violent and dusty Horn,
Through the unrelenting Sahel and Lesbos,
To the hell of Manus and its chaos.
Today with a rose, I’m on my way,
On a plane, to the San Francisco Bay,
I’m a poor refugee and I silently pray,
‘Show me some mercy, don’t turn me away’.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment