Tears That Refugees Lose

Tears That Refugees Lose
© Surazeus
2018 01 14

I wake up at dawn and find I am dead
faster than stars sparkling in the void
so I eat shadows on mirroring bread
then float nowhere like the singing crinoid.

I try to conserve actions of success
that help me progress through waste land of dreams
so I maintain balance in game of chess
while building stone towers by flowing streams.

My mute ancestors farmed this fertile land
one thousand years since we rose from its soil
till men swinging swords from blind royal hand
drove us from garden where our children toil.

We wander nowhere through slough of despond,
mute refugees hounded by hungry fear,
waiting for messiah with magic wand
who would lead us home to the singing mere.

I gaze down deep into the Eye of Earth
and seek to understand the core of light
that sparks regeneration of new birth
so we fight again for justice and right.

Through songless night I walk to ring of stones
where our First Mother once ruled Avalon
but greedy men with crowns sit on her thrones
and give our daughters to their sneering spawn.

The ancient music of the ringing stars
still vibrates in my wordless heart of faith
but sacred tunes are warped by thrumming cars
that fill the atmosphere with howling wraith.

I wander homeless now five hundred years
to live as stranger in strange crowded land
where no one cares about the bitter tears
that refugees lose in their callused hands.