Refuge

Border crossing now in sight
Soldiers standing at the gate
Blocking their continued flight
Eyes are narrowed full of hate.

Back there in a village grave
Lies a family buried there,
They resisted with the brave,
They were killed without a care.

Children now are on the run
There’s a price upon their head,
Now they’re orphans, no more fun,
Hunger pangs are there instead.

Back into the forest dank
Slink the children tired and wet,
Hear the rumble of a tank
Seeking escapees to get.

Now on secret mountain track
Dash the children out of breath
Knowing that they can’t turn back
Doing so would be their death.

Over border, two miles forward,
Freedom beckons with a nod
Will they taste this sweet reward?
Will they feel the soldier’s rod?

In the valley far below
Safely on the other side
They can see the lantern glow
Where their relatives reside.

Down the cliff a pathway steep,
Searchlights probe it regularly
Stealthily downhill they creep
Hoping that no one will see.

Soldiers shouting from the top,
Children reach the valley ground
Bullets flying; shouts to stop!
Border stream familiar sound.
                                         
Plunging in they start to cross
Fear the motivating urge
Welcoming the far shore moss
Pressing on their fear to purge.

Now they knock on farm house door
Shivering from waters cold
Then collapsing on the floor
Mother’s sister’s arms enfold.


“© Ian Grice 2008”