The Jungle’s highway, where the refugees travel
Tents sinking in the mud, amidst the harsh gravel.
Continents are crossed to reach this place,
Would it be so hard for us to offer an embrace?
From Sudan, Eritrea and Ethiopia,
Varied people flood into this modern dystopia.
They make their way from Iraq and Syria,
Hearts full of hope, that they’ll meet the criteria.
An act of brave and untold desperation,
Thousands dreaming of their legalisation,
Hope for a life not beset by brutality,
Where now is our western morality?
We take for granted safety and security,
Whilst they fade into complete obscurity,
They fly from their oppressive regimes,
Would we not all share similar dreams?
Hope and despair are sisters here,
People come and go and just disappear,
Such beauty in the small things of life,
Not having to worry about previous strife.
Every night, the bold dance with the trains,
And we just casually scrape up their remains,
“Shit, our bloody train has been delayed
Fuck giving more of that foreign aid”
Where is our compassion and solidarity?
With our brothers and sisters in humanity.
What sort of world do we leave behind?
For the next generation of mankind…
In a refugee camp somewhere in Europe: https://therovingaye.wordpress.com/2015/11/15/poetry/#more-2
A public reading of another Paul McElhinney poem on the Underground, in London: