The other wall

When white people swim the channel they get to wrap them selves ready in goose fat, 

and return noble

Having raised money or awareness or esteem or something else we value:

Except when the water is teaming with obscenely hopeful refugees who swim,

Falling from broken boats with breaking hope that breaks 

you’re heart. They’re underfunded, 

undermined as mere migrants, 

if they’re lucky enough to to get all the way across and luckier still to be welcomed as they straggle in in the waves, 

the Braves –

Ragged coastline deciding whose lame and who’s  saved, fine,

Drivers fined for people they couldn’t even find, or families they packed in like cattle, bedraggled from battlegrounds that no longer look like home,

And fining lorrymen won’t save lives, 

 and it won’t solve the crisis

Which in some circles is seen as 

The presence of immigrants

And in others;

The need for their journey.

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About hereisthemoment

I write. Sometimes I don't.

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