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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