No Room At The Inn, a poem by Tanweer Dar

Between the bombs and the bullets

The endless misery and despair

Brought by foreign hands

To these forsaken lands

And the never ending journey

To find refuge somewhere

Always to be turned away

At each and every place we stay

By those very nations

Whose designs have wrought our nightmares

No room, is their excuse

We don’t argue, what’s the use

Under the veil of night

We make our move in desperation

Small boats across the rough sea

Unscrupulous men promising liberty

And there, in the abyss

Do we find our graves

Far from hope and home

Unaided, unwelcome and alone

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