Of a Refugee
Not so strange,
A refugee in a foreign land,
Takes off his shoes,
To feel and sense this others' sand.
It does not feel so different, in fact,
It reminds him of his own dear beach,
Salty air waffles on the breeze,
Is that a tear, from a tear-duct breach.
He sees a local man approaching,
Puts a smile on his face,
His eyes try, but are puzzled and unsure,
Does this fellow accept another race.
Shame, he thinks, to think like that,
As the stranger extends his hand,
Welcome friend the other says,
Welcome to this land.
It's not always been like that,
Some folk think he will steal their job,
Some have stone cold hearts,
And think he is here to rob.
Those folk are at best, misguided,
By bigots that preach pure hate,
But there is a reason why,
Refugees knock against your gate.
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Comments
well said, BydOnz, in some way or fashion, we, or our ancestors were 'immigrants' somewhere, and someone or some group looked down or mistreated 'immigrants', but some did reach out a hand with respect, open hearts and true friendship, and when we or our ancestors look back, the people that made our lives harder seem to grow 'smaller' and insignificant to us....and in contrast, those people that reached out became the essence and symbol of 'our' new land, the people that really matter....at least, my friend this has been my experience as an immigrant....this is a cool write; especially in these times when it is easier or more 'fashionable' to lay 'blame' at the feet of immigrants than it is to look and see real value in them....have great evening, poet....love the spirit of this poem, inspiring!
Thankyou Christopher, that is a nice comment and it is true, we dont have to dig so deep to find we have immigrant connections and once a dialogue and hand-shakes start, then we become open to friendship.
Thanks for that support. Cheers.
Just now I had the chance to read this beautiful & meaningful writing. I am glad I found it.
Hello BydOnz, greetings from Bernadete.