WELCOME HOME
If only we could sing that song again,
The dispossessed said to their reflection.
You know, the one about a shed, a house, a home.
A shelter we could call our own,
A safe place to live in.
Though, obviously, that’s not happening.
Still, opening their mouths,
They began to sing with a bit of a quaver,
About a home.
Home!
That place where the poet said
They had to let you in.
‘Not in our experience,’ the refugees sighed.
Then fell silent, considering.
Which, frankly, didn’t change a thing
For there was only a handful listening.
Still they keep on singing.
©2019 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 
Home
“no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well…”
– Warsan Shire
https://www.josieholford.com/home/
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I neglected to mention that this is a brilliant poem and thank-you.
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What a powerful quote! Thank you for it.
Gwen.
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If only there weren’t any refugees to write about and they were all at home. Glad you liked
the poem.
Gwen.
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