A Poem by Mathew Nicolson

A poem I've been working up in my mind for a while, now.

Every day they hate you more
when all you want is peace. 
Desperate you gather, but closed is the door; 
they wish your kind would cease. 

Is it wrong? 
My skin, clothes, face; 
my faith, culture, tradition; 
memories of rubble, fire, loss; 
or memories of barren, dusty land. 
Would you let me in 
if I looked more like you? 

We offer you guards behind walls, 
dogs behind guards, 
politicians who, in their grand palace, 
turn the screw tighter, tighter, 
and congratulate themselves on their service to the public. 
They talk of swarms, the jungle and British values - 
you talk of food, shelter, and the hope of a better life. 
We offer the scorn of tabloids, 
pushing their rich man agenda on a public which, 
dazed and confused, 
leave the ballot box wondering why they feel so blue, 
quivering in fabricated fear 
of you. 

If you want tolerance, freedom, or love, 
you've come to the wrong place.

© 2015 Mathew Nicolson

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Very honest eye opening words. As an aussie refugees have become a common topic here. I think it's disgusting how we detain them like lesser beings. Even mothers and children have to bear the shame of it. Provided people come here with peaceful intentions and are happy to contribute then I would welcome them all with open arms. Yet even an offering of such generosity still wouldn't solve anything. The problem is that people are living in environments where they have an instinctive urgency to escape it.

Posted 7 Years Ago

Mathew Nicolson

7 Years Ago

Thank you! I completely agree. From what I've read, the Australian response seems even worse than t.. read more

7 Years Ago

You are very welcome. I feel a rant coming on so I'll warn you in advance. Our systems are no doubt .. read more

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1 Review
Added on August 18, 2015
Last Updated on August 18, 2015
Tags: Calais, refugees, commentary, UK, politics