Bordering On The Ridiculous.

 

We’re leading up to Christmas,

The season of goodwill,

The bombings and the shootings,

There’s someone there to kill.

 

The global situation,

The terror is the street.

And half a million refugees,

Are voting with their feet.

 

You can’t equate our village life,

With Syria or worse,

Our lives must seem like heaven,

And theirs the devils curse.

 

It’s right to feel compassion,

Compassions always good,

But hardly compensation,

In cities stained with blood.

 

We’ve always got the Channel,

That great defensive moat,

We wear our insularity,

We wear it like a coat.

 

I am myself a xenophobe,

My own pathetic sin,

A refugees descendent,

Who would not let them in.

 

The jungle camp in Calais,

In Greece and Turkey too,

The boats and all the casualties,

But what is there to do.

 

You could just open borders,

Let everybody cross

Would that then be a welcoming,

Or just a total loss.

 

From Palestine to Egypt,

Millenniums ago,

No formal border crossings,

But still the need to go.

 

No bombs, no guns, no gassing,

But still the need to flee,

The need to run from Herod’s rage,

Or just to run from me.

 

For I am all humanity,

The gun is in my hand,

Defending what for where and who,

My own, my precious land?