Shivering, shuddering beneath the leaden skies
soaking them, water running everywhere and lies,
all finding its way under their skin.
Pushed, unauthorised but terrified into obeisance,
obedience to the traffickers as the lights flicker
and waves roar over hard rocks.
Huddled, terrified they hold onto the frail touches
of each other and a craft barely above the seething
waters of a writhing sea.
There’s a guiding hand on the halting, struggling tiller,
and fear climbs and falls with the North Seas power,
and chugging ships churning wake.
A shout, Land!
and sand and shores and folk with fluffy blankets,
breaking the law set by a brutal minister.
Warmed, dried, dinking clean water, eating cold food,
huddling, terrified as they are found to be wanting
and treated like criminals.
‘We’ve come from Afghanistan where we worked for you.”
“We’ve run from a regime and my British Aunt is near.”
“Don’t send me away. I am only a child.”
Shivering, shuddering beneath the glowering gazes,
Huddled, terrified of where they will be going, They
only asked for mercy.
Still, the powers want them gone, still the people
are taught refugees are wrong, a transgression
and victims are made victims again.