The Refugees

We ache for our homes in morning light,

we trudge down dim roads, dusty from heat,

there’s sweat and thirst, but worse is the night

thinking of what was–once life was sweet.

 

We trudge down dim roads, dusty from heat,

we’re tired and sad, shed tears for loss,

thinking of what was–once life was sweet,

we journey on, our old lives we toss.

 

We’re tired and sad, shed tears for loss

we dream of new lives, dreams within dreams.

we journey on, our old lives we toss

overboard goes old, afar hope gleams.

 

We dream of new lives, dreams within dreams–

think in America we’ll be free.

Overboard goes old, afar hope gleams–

land of the free, perhaps, we’ll see.

 

So long the journey, who knows the end?

there’s sweat and thirst, but worse is the night

finding no welcome, finding no friends–

we ache for our homes in morning light.

Моисей_Слепян_Этюд_детей_беженцев_1915-16_гг.

Majsiej Sliapian [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Jilly has asked us to write a poem using a repetitive form for dVerse. This is a pantoum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

49 thoughts on “The Refugees

  1. Dreams within dreams, a repetition that brings us further and further down a rabbit hole, hardship wrapped in a new nightmare at each level, and yet they still dream, if we could wake and dream together as people, (sigh), worse is the night.

  2. I love pantoums. And I love this. As many have already commented here, your poem can reference any refugee, past, present, future; in this country or other countries. I have too many family members who have no sympathy with the refugees from Central America, from the countries that the US turned into pure hell for them. These same family members are willfully ignorant of how the Irish were perceived, treated, and reviled when they came to the US en masse in the 19th C. Oh, but they would not that those Irish were Catholic (my family’s Irish ancestors were not, as far as I know). Always making these fine, nonsensical distinctions, ignoring the humanity in all of us.

    • Thank you, Marie. I guess if someone needs a scapegoat, refugees are convenient. And all Americans, except for full-blooded Native American Indians, are immigrants or descended from immigrants–and of course, the distinctions are nonsensical.

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