Community of Practice Poetry: Valsa George
by Valsa George (Read by Kamar Gure) From the dark arenas of violence, From the shackles of oppression, From a land reeking of the smell of blood They flee, bloodied and bruised. These scraps of humanity alienated from their moorings Have no possessions other than the sky above And some inches of land to curl up That they carry with them as they move Before them, gapes an abyss of emptiness Disturbing them like existential absurdity They differ, speaking disparate tongues Like those heard in the tower of Babel But they have a single identity They are all REFUGEES driven by war They have a single destination A promised land of nowhere! ………………………………………… Trotting over dried up dreams Leaving love to die, identity to dissolve They let familiar terrains swim past view With everything slipping out of eye shot Again, no looking back! The unknown stretches far ahead Behind the hills, muffled cries die down With soundless echoes in the valley of the dead.