Found Poetry
The following four lines are an extract from a school book exercise written by a young boy having English lessons in the Calais Jungle:
“I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan
Because family were killed by the Taliban
Like my Father, Mother, Sister, Brother
I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan.”
I was so touched an inspired by his words that I created it into a poem.
English Lessons in the Calais Jungle
“I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan
Because family were killed by the Taliban
Like my Father, Mother, Sister, Brother
I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan.”
Ajourdi’hui
the only jungle we see here
is sweaty bodies to frantic rhythmic sounds
writhing at a rig.
But their lives are far from a gig.
Not just mindlessly gassing,
but mindlessly tear-gassing kids.
Forbidden from freedom, from fighting and fear.
Just build up a big wall
then they’ll disappear?!
What about the problem which is still very much here:
“I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan.”
A jungle was once a land dominated by trees
It comes from Sanskrit jangala
meaning uncultivated land,
but I don’t understand the tangled etymology
& loss of trees
replaced by dis-ease, camps and misery;
for the ‘sin’ of wanting safety for the families.
Why won’t we help the detainees?
Put there by us;
our arms that harmed them overseas
but won’t stretch out to help up people in need.
England’s Lady Macbeth hands drip their blood.
We are the disease…
Just build a big wall and they’ll disappear?!
Out of sight, out of mind
until for a moment you see or hear
a young boy’s English lesson expressing his fear:
“I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan
Because family were killed by the Taliban
Like my Father, Mother, Sister, Brother
I don’t want to go back to Afghanistan.”
Rosie Peacock © 2018