The Last Supper
They munch at scraps of bread
And gulp their meagre drink;
They borrow someone’s phone
To make one final call,
Then scrape up what he asks
To squeeze into the boat
And shiver as the sea
Sets out its fearsome stall.
Comments
Thank you, Stephen.
The humanity of these godforsaken voyages is often lost in the clamour of populist dog whistles.
Wed 2nd Oct 2024 17:34
And it is thus, that the dog-whistling politicians who loudly complain "This is a Christian country..." betray and crucify Jesus with every death.
They don't want to "stop the boats", because that gives them power over a population divided by hate.
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Stephen Gospage
Fri 4th Oct 2024 17:21
Thank you, Steve and Uilleam. Yes, each individual who undertakes these perilous voyages does so at great risk and they too often end in tragedy. I read recently about the hundreds of unmarked graves on the migration routes to Europe, and also met two Afghan men whose account of their journey from Kabul to Belgium left me open-motuhed and in awe of their bravery and determination.
As you both say, the human endeavour and tragedy is so often forgotten in all the populist bluster.
And thank you to everyone who liked this poem. I am very grateful for your support.