The Refugee Poem by Lone Dog

(*Dedicated to my friend Carlos to help him find peace and love and compassion for others.)


He came;
Carlos Antonio Velasquez;
Refugee from El Salvador;
Neglected, unloved, alone;
Burdened by a troubled childhood;
By memories of war;
By memories of a land
Reeking with the stench of death;
A land turned cemetery
By the perverted games of politicians.

He came;
Carlos Antonio Velasquez;
Born unwanted by a mother still a child;
Unable to dream the dreams of youth -
For bare survival would not let him dream.
Nor did he know the sweet caress of Love,
For Love had never touched his curly brow
Nor pressed its tender bosom to his breast.

He came;
An empty and embittered man in youthful frame;
Taken from school at the age of fifteen
To wage war.
Molded like clay by those
Who would make him cold;
By those who would rape him
Of all feeling and compassion;
By those who would make of him
A machine of death and destruction.

He came;
He came to the streets of Dallas;
To the sidewalks and the alleys of New York;
And well did they use his training
And his cunning and his stealth!
Yet fate, for once, would treat him well,
For though he played with Death along the road to hell,
He was spared and made his way to Canada.

Yes, Carlos Antonio Velasquez came to Canada and to me.
He came to where he can learn to feel,
To where he can learn to shed a tear,
To where he can search for the love he's missed
Since the time of his childhood years.
And I hope somehow that my love for him
Will seep through the cracks in his heart,
And fill it full till it overflows
So he then can give some back.


*On March 6,1995 Carlos was found dead on a couch in his Hamilton apartment. He was only 22 years old.