
Migrant
I am a migrant,
Wife n children
I live in my tent
They in heaven
I drink no water
Eat a little grain
When I’m thirsty
Sip from a drain
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One day a sparrow came, alighted on my balcony railing
I, behind stirring curtains, saw her settle down, was glad
That of all the houses standing together, she chose mine.
To rest awhile, and with darting eyes take a second wind.
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She saw me, and I knew she would take wing if I blinked
Yet I could not help, but she stayed perhaps a little tired
Of looking for minute worms or seeds in the dusty grass
I slow turned, and no sooner my curtains joined, hurried
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With soundless steps to the kitchen, from the bread box
Grasped crumbs as much could hold, and tip-toed back
But she was gone, so I disconsolate, listless spread it all
On the floor, profligate in offer but little hope in receipt.
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Yet she came once again, and this time her mate in tow,
I, in the ecstasy of disbelief, knelt. They perched peering
Down at such provender, exchanging looks of whether.
Now looking at me, as if my hospitality stained in doubt.
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And I in dumb supplication, that I gave with full heart
Would be blessed, was no generosity my humble fare,
But a prayer that such travellers may at least partake
Of what was given, and I my own hunger too may sate.
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They, after a while assured, came among the morsels
And fed with beaks that softly tapped, now swallowed
My knees ached but could not shake my mind off that
Grateful wonder, and awe that I alone had the vision.
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Now all eaten, with faint rustling they rose into air
Yet glancing once my way, seeing my head bowed
Spread wings, chirped as one in some mellowness.
They were gone beyond sight, and I left oozy-eyed.
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I saw them never more, but I did long after in mind
As I lay supine waiting, with one outstretched hand
With crumbs now sere in my old, so withered claws
Those glazed eyes, straining in that fast-fading light.
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Flitting to my wasted palm, soft- resting gently ate.
The ancient repast now done, hopped to my breast
And whispered in my heart, they heard feebly beat
Go easy, we will ever dine off your love in your nest.
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I am a migrant,
Wife n children
I live in my tent
They in heaven
I drink no water
Eat a little grain
When I’m thirsty
Sip from a drain

Madam Miss, welcome to my beloved land
Thank you for buying all of my humble fare
But that is about the most that I could spare
What is left, not enough to hold in my hand.
What is that you are asking, I could not hear?
My home? Yes, I would much like you to see
I will be honoured, it’s next to the old maqui
That is no longer there, and none other near.

The virus will, sooner or later, play itself out
We repeat that, in spite of that nagging doubt.
In the meantime, it will take some of us along
Whether or not we have done anything wrong.
The game of life has ever played out like that
Sickness will always pick some out of the hat.

When the flags of freedom fly
They surely must evoke
Visions of that valiant tribe
Who fought to break the yoke.
When the songs of freedom sound
They surely call to mind
Thorns they took away with them
The flowers they left behind.

When old dogs call it a day, go away
And finally reach, who knows where?
Some of them are quite likely to say.
Rather stay with my folks down there.
If that cannot be made to transpire
The Lord may stretch a point for us.
When we are set to mount the bier
Make sure we are on that same bus.
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