We came on our own
Apparently, not for adventure
Plausibly, not for purer pastures
Visibly, not for viable ventures
But clearly to seek havens, safe
And possibly have our souls, saved
But try as we could
We couldn’t gain their trust
Suspicion is our prize
Head or tail we lose
Rain of shine we go down
This is our plight
We bear the blame
For all their blemish
Condemnation is our brand
Stigmatised and slandered
Can we ever drop this dark dye?
What can secure our safety?
What can guarantee our gaiety?
If protocols and conventions can’t
Why are they paying lip service;
To such morally sound sacrifice
To keep these grieving guests gratified
In their stand-in sanctuaries?
There is the daunting demand
For a hefty change of heart
About the treating of these guests,
Who are never architects,
Of the disgusting dilemmas,
They are inextricably immersed in.
This is the right thing to do
It denotes obedience, keenly
To the basic biblical creed
Of being our brothers’keeper
We seem to lose all sense of humanity and tend to look down on those who seek help, we have lost campassion. Emotional write, i feel their pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No they are not the architects. Your poem speaks volumes to the heart of desperation, of humanity. Your poem is approachable like a prayer. A poem that most people on either side of the river being crossed can understand when fires are not stoked by suspicious leaders that corrupt those in need as well as those that in their hearts wish to help. We are better than the press and the dividers would have the ignorant minds believe.