Over eight million somebodies in this city
some live rough others live pretty
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—
Once you had a place to call your own
a land, a space somewhere safe, called ‘home.’
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—-
The stars in the sky
streaking silver smiles
disguise loud mouthed hatred and
political lies
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—-
The willow tree hangs her head in shame
ruffled collared daffodils
do the same
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—–
They let in Pekinese pooches in bow ties
and snow white kittens with pleading eyes
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—–
They pack you up ,in cargo ships
trapped like rats
with the old and the sick
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
—–
Visas, passports and id docs,
border control and traffic blocks
warn
there’s no room for you my friend no room
——
“If we open the gates they’ll come swarming in – they’ll steal our jobs,”
and rape our women,”
so, there’s no room for you my friend no room
—–
Saw gunfire and cluster bombs scar the night
as soldiers and street militia prepare to die
still there’s no room for you my friend no room
—–
Went to the mosque and watched worshippers pray
together , heads bowed , a tableau of grace
but there’s no room for you my friend no room
——
Dreamt of paradise sun and a million feet
marching across blossoms screaming: “liberty!”
but there’s no room for you my friend no room.
Saira Viola
Illustration: Elena Caldera