Asylum

by T.P. Wilkinson / April 14th, 2019

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.

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

This article was posted on Sunday, April 14th, 2019 at 8:04am and is filed under Poetry.