"No one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land"

That line from the poem “Home”, by Somali-British poet Warsan Shire, brings home the stark reality of the horrifying decisions refugee parents must make. 

HERE read by Warsan Shire herself

No-one flees their home without a pressing reason – usually to escape persecution, torture or a real threat of death.  

🧡 Home by Warsan Shire 🧡 Read by Sir Jonathan Pryce https://youtu.be/8KEU74cnU8g

More information about the writer, with the poem in full HERE 

  Poem written by Pavlo Vyshebaba May 2022

to my daughter 

Please don’t write to me of the war,

Tell me instead of the gardens around,

Do the grasshoppers sing the songs we adore?

Do the snails slowly inch upon sprouts?

Tell me about the words people use

To name their cats in faraway nations.

The only thing I want you to refuse

Is to hide between the lines your frustrations.

Do cherries or apricots bloom near your dwelling?

If they give you a bouquet of flowers,

Don’t talk about your escape from the shelling

Tell them we lived here the best life of ours

Let Ukraine become the land to explore,

Invite foreign friends and every person you meet.

We will show everybody after the war

How grateful we are for our children’s peace.

Translated from Ukrainian by Anhelina Yurkiv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem by Benjamin Zephaniah

I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don’t like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
I come from a beautiful place
Where girls cannot go to school
There you are told what to believe
And even young boys must grow beards.
I come from a great old forest
I think it is now a field
And the people I once knew
Are not there now.
We can all be refugees
Nobody is safe,
All it takes is a mad leader
Or no rain to bring forth food,
We can all be refugees
We can all be told to go,
We can be hated by someone
For being someone.
I come from a beautiful place
Where the valley floods each year
And each year the hurricane tells us
That we must keep moving on.
I come from an ancient place
All my family were born there
And I would like to go there
But I really want to live.
I come from a sunny, sandy place
Where tourists go to darken skin
And dealers like to sell guns there
I just can’t tell you what’s the price.
I am told I have no country now
I am told I am a lie
I am told that modern history books
May forget my name.
We can all be refugees
Sometimes it only takes a day,
Sometimes it only takes a handshake
Or a paper that is signed.
We all came from refugees
Nobody simply just appeared,
Nobody’s here without a struggle,
And why should we live in fear
Of the weather or the troubles?
We all came here from somewhere.
 Benjamin Zephaniah
 
 
 
 

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