The Price of Flight

The issue of refugees is worldwide and one theme in my poetry is the contrast between our priveleged, mostly comfortable lives in the West and those of the poor and often exploited (for our benefit) in the Third World; and indeed often exploited and mistreated by their very own leaders, goverments and military. It is important that we are reminded of this and that we attempt to address the issue through our own lifestyles.

This poem has been published on the webzine, I am not a silent poet: https://iamnotasilentpoet.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/the-price-of-flight-by-david-urwin/

Please go to this site to view more poetry that addresses abuse of all kinds.

 

The price of flightrefugees on road

 

Kasim is nine years old.

The rebel soldiers cut his mother’s throat

in front of him.

They also kill his little sister

and his big brother

while he watches.

He flees his village.

When he is hungry

he asks people for food.

If they give him something, he eats. Otherwise

he stays hungry. He sleeps on the street.

 

    At the peace conference

    wine glasses shimmerrefugees

    on the starched white cloth;

    smoked salmon canapes

    nestle in neat circles.

 

Nosiba is sixteen.

She has four sisters and three brothers.

The soldiers kill the brothers

in front of her.

They rape her sisters

and they rape her.

They shoot her father for trying to stop them.

Those who escape have to pay a broker

to cross the border.

She doesn’t have enough money

so sells her body

to the broker.

 

    White limousines gleam

    and cruise through the capital’s streets,

    the generals’  uniforms creased

    to a precise command.

 

Zahia is fifteen.

The soldiers arrive in her village

line up and shoot all the young men.

The houses are set alight.

She does not know where her parents are

or if they are dead or alive.

She escapes from the village with two other girls.

They walk barefoot through thorn scrub

for three or four days without food.

She wants to go home.

 

    Beaches of gold and cities of culture

    beckon from brochures and magazines.

    The food is exotic. The flights are cheap.

    Select your paradise.

 

©  David Urwin 2017

 

Inspired by the photographs and stories of Iqbal Hossein in New Internationalist 502, May 2017.

 

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About jadedmountain

I am a poet, living a rural life in south-west Wales. The purpose of this blog is to publicise my poetry.
This entry was posted in homelessness, poetry, poverty, refugee crisis and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Price of Flight

  1. Very strong poem. How true! How true!

    Like

  2. Paul Steffan Jones says:

    Powerful Dave. The contrast between worlds of the dispossessed and the privileged is effective.

    Liked by 1 person

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