Amal Elmi - A poem dedicated to the recent death of 500 refugees and migrants – mainly young Somali and East African men and women – in the Mediterranean that did not even make news headlines.
I can hear mothers crying,
Fathers that are deep down mourning,
But are forced to be brave.
When did this happen?
Who neglected our children.
They clung onto hope for a better life.
Day after day. Night after night, time slowly passed.
Frosty and frightening, yearning for the comfort of
Their families and their homes.
Patiently waiting for the glorious moment
They would reach their dream destination.
Before they know it water was harshly splashing from every direction.
Every second, salty sea water filling up the overcrowded ship.
The raging water came crashing down over their bodies like a massive weight,
Like a blanket tying them down into the sea.
All you could hear was screeches crying for help
Getting quieter, quieter and quieter.
Until you could faintly make out what,
Where waves crashing into each other.
Seeing as fate would have it,
They suffered through the storm,
But never saw the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Why is everyone silent. Hush.
Not a single sound not a single whisper.
Not a single word exchanged.
Have we been forgotten?
Are we not worthy of being talked about?
Why are our lives not as important as those in the west?
What hope is there left if we have not helped our youth?
You didn’t help us because our once beating hearts are now dead.
The love and hope deep inside us has now died.
This period of melancholy will always be with us.