Zywa On the run

Strips along the road:
my dreams rose themselves to pieces
torn by their over-pressure

Fellow-sufferers hang in the water
rippled, on broken legs
skinny from waiting

too tired to go on
and not strong enough
to stand still

I only cry tears
that do not come
to relieve or redeem

The light of the lighthouse
swings brightly
but the eye is blind

Poem 2219
Amsterdam, 2019-04-25

Refugees
Collection: On living on [2] 
Keyword: Migration 
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