You Never See Refugees Crying

Sadness, for them, can't be kept. It's a luxury.
“Cry when you get there.” Until then, they go
With their children and garbage sacks stuffed
Full of clothes, along tracks through the jungle,
Through rivers and mud, later deserts, without
Any water or food. Children may cry
(Though they learn not to bother), but parents
Cannot. There are nightmares to run from toward
Somewhere better. If they reach that place,
And they're able to stay, maybe then they
Can finally cry.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-04-07 at 17:07

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