There is more to a refugee than what you see,
behind the closed doors lies tragedy surely,
oftentimes there is despair,
most surely there is hope,
for in the heart of a refugee is a desire for life,
without conflict and hatred,
if we offer refuge we save a soul,
moreso we will save ours.

In between the greying
and the silvering
work and life
the sombre brooding of time
and the lull after the storms
poetry crept upon me
word by word
phrase by phrase
in a metaphor
letters from the heart
filling gaps of loneliness
with welcome solitude

Loneliness is a frictionless erosion
A silent internal explosion
The walls crumble down
And even with crowds around
No one comes to check if you
Survived

a woman places my hand in the stomach of god

as fire
the stickman’s
barber
betrays
my hair