Asylum

from them
their god
there is no place
there is no sanctuary
there is no peace
no land, no sea,
but putrid air
(if allowed to breathe)
nothing free
without their chains
not a light
where their darkness
reigns
who dares those souls
illuminate
who tries their desert
to rehydrate
who trusts in virtue
finds too late
their god asylum gives
only to hate.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..