they cower, the leaves in a storm, exposed yet tied to branch boat a floating branch arriving in France boat. an arrival unwanted they wait and see? rudder shudders but determines to hit land-
to hit safety, where they might be hit by Police, by intolerance maybe their search for hospitality in Their civilised shores was doomed all along?
they were hit by war, hit by struggles, hit by white men in anonymous lands too detached from consequence and all too wedded to power, the men who arm their enemies and their friends, They aren’t hurting like they are, homeland intact, They don’t have to cower- they do and they are and they will
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