sometimes

everything feels heavy

late in the day

when weary and hungry 

cold stone underfoot

seeps through soles

& there are stairs

gravity seems unfair

without language

a sea of conversations 

is rhythmic syllable soup

with a sprinkling of recognisable words

floating free of context

i practice threading 

these sparse beads of understanding

stitching a glimmerof the story here

as i walk on

i am not lost

just misplaced

i have somewhere to go

in my pocket is a ticket for a train

i have coins for the bus driver

i have an address

i can look things up

on my phone

imagine

if i had my whole home to carry

pots for cooking

my mother

young children

damp bedding

and nowhere to go

in a nature reserve

by the border

adrift but alive

many people

many children

keep a tiny flame of hope alight

in the rain

i would love to tell them

come home with me

there is plenty to share

yet

i remember

just now

my country

treats them like criminals

spends millions on their exiled misery

forgetting how so many of our families

arrived just the same also 

fleeing hunger and war

sometimes

late in the day

everything feels heavy

& gravity seems unfair