Who is going to tell
the poor refugee
where to find
a sanctury in
the political wastelands
of human tragedy?
So the infant child
can learn to swim
under a safer sun,and not
drown in the Mediterranean Sea.
The best we can do
is look on
in disbelief
at another
Human grief
washed ashore
fleeing for their lives
from the barrel of the gun.
The desperate faces fall
with their babies
on the cold steel
rail tracks
of Europe.
How far have we come
from warring against each other?
When children are thrown
into desperate hands
onto railway wagons
the young and old
learn to suffer the same
bleeding chapters from
the bad blood of mankind
while the politicians
drink bottled water at
breakfast tables.
They decide
the fate of
the poor refugee
who is prepared to die
for the ink mark
the colour of
the division sea
in a small book
to set his family free
on a safe passage
to the promised land
But as the clock ticks
with no answers and
the borders stay closed
another smuggler
reaps the profits
regardless
of the tide
of injustice
to Humanity.
Avie.
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