Untidy time and tide return
as blood unfolds
and houses burn,
as children cry as they journey on
to other lands
for theirs has gone.
And limbs lie strewn across their way
unattached
from easy prey
who simply lived before migrant fear
destroyed the old
and they fell victim here.
And all who seek to move frontiers
with bomb or gun or knife or spears
should place them in a balance
weighed against
the ashes of the tears.
This is a moving and apposite work .It is ever the duty of Poets ,in particular,to be not merely the passive chroniclers of the present Age but for their words to shine a beam of light into its darker recesses.