Refugee

We’re all refugees,

on our way to come home

at a certain moment,

some day

in this or another life,

our soul rooted out,

wrested from and in a fight

to keep alive,

to leave the home of your heart

and to be lonely without a land,

to know that maybe

you’ll never go back again,

dependent on charity

of the decadence of the abundance

and seeing that some

don’t want to break the bread

putting their wines in the deepest cellar

death has been scraped from the waves

as a toxic foam on the lips of the child

that never will return

on this world,

the barricades of the barbed wire

will never stop the hunger,

the blood of this crown of thorns

will again have to be carried

before they will believe again.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

19/09/2015