Homework to 2803011 LIFE'S GOOD

[Maureen K Clifford]

LIFE’S GOOD

The hand that rocks the cradle is rough and quite careworn
from long days spent working out on arid soil.
The cradle’s nothing fancy - a recycled orange crate
set on rockers made from tin that held palm oil.
The small babe suffers restless nights, as hunger gnaws his gut
there’s no food at all or even cash to spare.
His mothers milk has long dried up, she’s nothing for her child
and you see within her eyes her sad despair.

She travels miles every day to wells to fetch the water
for her family – its rank and its unclean,
she must leave the sickly child in the care of her young daughter
and she wishes that her nightmare were a dream.
She dreams of something better for her family, some peace.
Wonders is that really just too much to ask?
She scrimps and saves, and begs and steals, to try to raise the price
of escaping but it seems a hopeless task.

She brushes black bush flies away, from round her baby’s mouth
where they cluster – as his sweat makes his skin moist.
She cools his heated body with natural fan of palm,
tries to quell inside her head that inner voice.
She has no means of raising the dollars the hard men charge
to guarantee their passage on a boat.
She could go to the city, sell her body and her soul
buy the tickets, save her children. Sell her goats.

She has no man to help her for her husband has been killed
in bitter fighting that broke out between two factions.
Her father and her brothers also captured – now are gone,
her old Mother tortured, blinded by cruel actions.
They all rely on her now and she has nothing to give,
except herself – her eyes shone bright with unshed tears.
If that is what it took to give them all a chance at life
she would debase herself, swallow her pride and fears.

But that was then, and this is now – in our land she now lives.
Her land now - for she has just the bravest heart.
She has put the past behind her she’s embraced each bright new day
and she’s determined that it’s here their life will start .
Her daughters doing well at school and baby boy is thriving.
They’ve a roof over their heads and life is good.
Some folks will never get how hard it is for some surviving
but then some folks can’t see trees because of wood.

Nadifa now is happy and Amina she is smart,
they are learning English as fast as they can,
and Asad her little boy - he who was named for the Lion
is now a healthy, happy child – her little man.
The Toowoomba community have opened up their hearts
and given love, hope and peace to this family.
Somalia was their country and they’ll always hold it dear
but it's this country they call home. They now are free.



Maureen Clifford © 03/11

[Zondrae]

Thanks for this Maureen,

With the news this morning about unrest at Christmas Island it is a timely piece. I find myself lumping all refugees in one basket. For this I will ask forgivness. Each soul has it's own story and I should not be their judge unless I have walked in their shoes.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Yes I understand Zondrae we are all guilty I am sure at some time of doing the same - IMO the media has a lot to answer for in the inflammatory way it reports things.

Sad thing about this poem is it is true.

[Bob Pacey]

I do not think anyone minds the genuine refugees it's the trouble makers they resent.

Bob

[Maureen K Clifford]

seems the red headed ranga is set to send them off shore now anyway. Doubt somehow that it will stem the tide though.