Flight of the Rohingya

By Frances Roberts


Water and a little food

snatched up

containers a rug  a pole

survival driven

humanity pouring from a fissure

abandoning home again

the road to Bangladesh.


An exodus of tears

how long a time

for winter or perhaps for ever

so many children walking  crying

no carrying now

no destination’s welcome

but maybe life itself a little longer.


Hunger steals the stage from fear

and then reforms as fear as children shrink

in this nowhere place

a desperation of shelters

no washing

no teaching no medicine

no toilets but the forest

a long term legacy of loss

of skill of health  of hope

in the next generation.



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