Refugees by Neetu Malik


Everyone lines up
where fences stand tall
between life and death,
heaven and hell’s call.

Scrambling to get
to the other side—

you know of whom I speak–
the “refugees”.

Leaving their last treasure,
as their homes they flee:
their crumbling piece of earth,
driven by their own
on foreign soil to roam.

Welcomed they are not;
no hosts standing by–
they face the barbed fence
and hostility’s shrill cry.

They are cold where they stand,
but colder is the hand
that shoves them aside
and pushes them back.

It is that tall fence you see
that marks the line
between who can live
and who must fight to survive.

© Neetu Malik 2015 – First published in The Australia Times Poetry Magazine Issue 325 in Dec. 2015.