Embarking into the Unknown
Faces of those who are lost stare ahead, each with their own tale and own terrors;
Stories of the past, present, and future; held within tears on silk cheeks.
Quiet determination fills sullen hearts, fear laces through veins—
Will asylum be given as promised? Or are these lives another batch to be caged?
Scores of people stand here, taking the hands of their neighbours while trying to ignore the blood aside.
A mother, a child, a veteran, a victim, a politician, a felon, a worker—
Does any of that matter?
Dow we all not plead equality and second chances, even for the damned?
Are we not all human, regardless of origin, race, or experiences?
Do we all not bleed when shot, cry when lost, die when hung?
See this woman here? Well into her age with two children trailing close behind?
She had lived in abuse, been raped and beat; she is disallowed to even speak.
She clings to her religion, as it is her only salvation,
Yet you judge her for the hijab she wears to protect her own self?
You judge the ceremonial robes she must wear, is beat if she does not?
You dare take outward appearance as gospel?
Or, do you see this child? Painfully skinny and short from malnutrition?
He works, everyday, until he drops dead of exhaustion and is abandoned in the factory.
Why? It’s to send money back home to his family, all dying of cholera.
His sister, only eight, is already dead, but he knows not.
His family is too weak to make the journey to freedom, or they are simply too scared of succeeding— to finally make it to the border to be killed at the gates?
So many people making the journey to the unknown;
Wondering if they will make it to a safe haven or die along the way,
Wondering if they actually manage, will they be sent back to die?
Will they be kept in cages like animals, separated from those they love?
But still, they come, embarking into the unknown that has been lined with red;
Some want a better life, for some it is either this or death, for some there is no choice.
And for most? The unknown future is better than the bloodied past.