Libya to Italy
Read of ship in the sea
Turns-over, capsizing.
Hundreds, all blacks; Africans
Children and the old; pregnant.
Feel going to movies
Flashback, memories.
Land-Rover, we, ride in
Driver, Imposter-Khomeini
Something’s wrong, we stop
A pulley, a washer, gearbox
In cold dark, ice night-time;
For the five, I am in charge
My wife and, friend’s wife
Innocents, daughter, son.
Suddenly a fire in distance
Then bullets, come across
“What is this? ” sits in mind.
Too busy to ask it; no reply.
I hear later on; it sheds light
Fear, thanks, are in thoughts.
“The dhow had cigarettes
Smuggled; captain set fire:
‘Better to burn them to the ground
Don’t give a single to the guards.’”
The rest is history…
We escaped, are alive.
But exiles, refugees, immigrants
Each word lives; hanging mirror.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem