Holiday

I wrote this poem many years ago in response to the Syrian refugee crisis and after reading Home by Warsan Shire.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat,
unless the water is safer than the land

My poem is not going to rock the poetry world but I remembered it this week because of what is happening to those poor people trying to cross the Channel to get to the UK. 

HOLIDAY

We’re going on holiday
Mum, Dad and I.
On a sailing boat, across the sea
To an island, nearby.

We’ve a backpack each,
I’ve packed my Teddy
Why’s Mum crying?
Everything’s ready.

Dad says we’re leaving late at night
Cause that is much more fun.
It’s so cold, look – the stars are out
Why are they starting to run?

There’s many other people here,
are they all coming too?
No-one looks that happy,
I really need the loo.

That’s not a sailing boat at all,
but a rubber blow-up thing.
It looks like the toy I have in my bath
where I splash and play and sing.

The sea is dark, it looks so big
The waves are very high.
Mum and Dad are quiet.

I’m scared. I don’t know why.

Strange men shouting
Children crying
In the boat, now!
Someone is lying.

I need the toilet, Mum says wait
I want my bed and toys
I shouldn’t be up this late, I think
I’m just a little boy.

Men shoving
Ocean, heaving.

Boat is full.

Boat is leaving.

Wee runs straight down my leg.
Tears fill my eyes.
It’s raining now, I’m so cold
Inside, it’s warm and dry.

Mum wades in the water,
her trousers are now all wet.
‘Mum! Mum! I shout
I'm not having much fun yet.

Dad grabs me.
Screaming, I kick and shout.
My backpack falls off,
Ted falls out.

The boat’s now full, we’re in the dark
Silence fills the air.
Is this a holiday we’re on?
I want my teddy bear.

Boat is leaking
Mum is screaming
Ted is gone
Am I dreaming?

RIP