Crisis Creation, 2015
Refugees. They keep coming. Shouldn’t we have expected it? No age barrier or sex discrimination in this, just the ability to walk or be carried. Unable to swim? Just added risk. She stares at a crater,
remnants of garments, pink, grey. Is that sleeve or shoulder? Broken treasures indistinguishable from dust save a small handle patterned red, blue. Memories buried, condemned. She has no home. Any place better than this. Conflict + Weapons = Displacement, Right? He watches his children no longer laughing, eyes wide open, no place to run. Young minds increasingly scarred by what you would not want them to see. More gunfire, getting closer. Their future is burning. Anywhere becomes Promised Land. Media images don’t lie. They come in their thousands. Many look strong, eager, believing they’re welcome. Then the fences go up, barbed wire atop, killing thoughts of choice in this imposed new life. At the roadside a woman, head bowed and weary, touches a place of no hope as a man gathers his children. The earth is crying, nothing will grow, no life sustained. Ashes to ashes …
Let the tears flow freely, humanity.
Overcome we will.
We must stop this bloody war.
Image thanks to DHO 121
I am living and working in Guernsey at present and love to write in my spare time. I am motivated by both the beauty and horrors of the world, politically - more beauty please!