In the clear blue sky of a hot summer day,
\nabove my head the white plume of a jet
\nflying high, curls like the bony spine of
\nsome ancient dinosaur.<\/p>\n
People jetting off to somewhere new,
\npassing over our valley shadowed with
\nolder fears, of distant plagues like
\nlocusts coming here.<\/p>\n
Travel is escape, an altered perspective
\non our human search for more than
\nsurvival, migrating meaning from
\none place to another.<\/p>\n
Unlike the birds, who yearly fill the air
\nwith chattering joy at landfall, in their
\nneed to build new nests for their
\nunfledged young.<\/p>\n
Welcome visitors, crossing many
\nfrontiers at will, illegal messengers
\nof song and acrobatic flight who
\nbring us all delight.<\/p>\n
Now others come, not tourist class
\nbut trapped in leaky boats on the sea’s
\nbroad swell, seeking shelter here
\nin our island home.<\/p>\n
These human travellers, desperate for
\nsafety’s warm embrace, are denied
\na welcome by cold indifference
\nuniformed in boats.<\/p>\n
Why can we not greet neighbours
\nescaping war, or famine’s threat, to
\nsee what gifts they bring? Have we
\nbecome blind and deaf?<\/p>\n
Have we forgotten loss, or pain’s
\nsharp dissonance, along with our
\ncommon humanity, and wish only
\nlives of untroubled ease?<\/p>\n
August 2020<\/p>\n