Fifty Million Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Fifty million

Refuge, displaced and homeless
In the ports, on the roads, in vessels
Being bus, minivan, boat or ship, even air
Many die like I heard "On border
Is buried like a dog under rock."
Each of us sees own way.
I see mine.
The MH that is lost had unnamed.
Recent ship, the Greek had unknown.
Many are round the world and untold.
"This uncle knows Rahman, " Rahim lied.
All around I have seen and have talked.
I'm ashamed; that is all.
(Nine killing; kids and up,
Edmonton's story, Vietnam)
What are these but chaos?
"There is one medicine, " someone said:
"Death to man; to mankind, " guess he meant.