Refugee

The final train has gone, I'm told. The station's
Been abandoned to the beggars and the lunatics.
The streets around it, lined with bars, are teeming
With professionals. I see no place for one like me,
And drag my suitcase aimlessly along the sidewalks
Wishing I had some way I could contact you. Am I
To lead the beggar's life tonight, to have a cardboard
Bed, and hope you'll find me when it's light? Am I
To rue my rash decision to abandon where I was,
Decaying cesspool that it is, to fly to Paris, and to you,
To try to become civilized? Come find me, J,
And say I'm safe, and hold me, and pour me some wine.
Across the sea, the planes are leaving. My homeland
Is done, I'm told. That's for the best. I'm unconcerned.
The beggars and the lunatics, who rule there as here,
I've seen, cannot defeat me when you're near,
Cannot destroy the better world
Those around you know.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 57 times
Written on 2017-12-08 at 20:09

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Bibek
Finally I see some optimism towards the end of this poem. Bravo! A poem that I'll cherish for long.
2017-12-09