A poem I wrote for my English creative assignment. Had to be 500-600 words, so it’s pretty long.
I
This place of birth, of origin safe
Of blanket arms and dark,
Breathing embrace,
Is torn apart.
The roof is ripped off,
The foundations ablaze,
The timbers fall and crash.
It is gone.
This land was once
A haven warmed by the sun
But now it is a furnace.
Escape is not
A choice,
But a necessity.
Go now,
Do not look back.
Push through the hordes of people
That cry and stink and consume,
Stumble through the maze of stony plains
And run past the bullets,
Seeking swiftly their target.
Do not be daunted by the mountain tall,
The valley deep,
The clouds that scowl a warning.
Disregard fatigue and pain and mortality,
For they are not important.
Go now,
Do not allow borders to detain you.
And if you see what you cannot find
Here and now,
You will eventually find
Safety.
II
Stay now, for a while,
In this country vibrant and
Full of life.
This is a place of chamge,
You will find,
With different gods and tongues and
Where weapons are mercifully scarce.
Though they will stare,
As all men do,
If you lower your eyes to the ground,
Soon you will be invisible.
But do not permit yourself
Infatuation
Nor too much comfort.
In this place still,
Children cry like
Baby birds with open mouths
To catch a wriggling worm.
Sadness can still be found
Within the spiced air
Of this nation.
Do not settle
But move on.
III
Stop here,
But for a while –
Although the streets reek
And the red flag snaps taught
On the flagpole.
Where the crowds swarm
And bite and scratch
They will not find you
Yet.
Where the wind current
Whips at your face and
Tears at your hair,
Where the birds fly up
In tumultuous panic,
Where the walls have
Eyes and ears.
You may look but never stay.
Where the eerie music
And the rhythmic movement
Moves you deep within your chest,
Where the pungent food meets your lips –
This, surely, is safe.
You smile.
But someone
(A sentinel)
Watches with a frown.
You must know now
That this place is not
Safety.
There is something hidden
In these walled cities,
And only when the right questions are asked
Will it bare its teeth.
Behind this border,
We have stopped now
But not arrived.
IV
Stop here for a while.
Rest your calloused feet
On this bed of steamy jungle.
The frogs sing their songs all the same,
They are not disturbed by you.
The tiger slinks by –
A moving shape of
Disembodied stripes –
It is only curious and shall not harm.
But even this jungle has eyes.
And soon you will not see
Its greenery,
Smell the damp, mossy scent,
And the limber trunks will be
Replaced by bars.
It is all too clear now –
Only the animals will
Welcome you here.
V
Go now,
Cast your eyes upon this
Old, ancient map.
There are places many,
Space for every person to live.
But you are different.
To be a person,
Must you have a home?
If so,
Then you are not a person.
You must travel
With your house upon your back,
And the weighty burden that comes
With having no country.
Statesmen will frown and
Shake their heads,
Men will
Turn their backs,
But only you will know the
Weight of that burden you bear.
This place of hostility,
This world of competition
Is no place for a human being.
I wrote this based on refugees. Tell me what you think of the style.
wordsoftwostoreys 