refugee – from “the book of sins”

for you there is nothing but silence in the jungle

it is still in the night

with the sounds of nothing but snores

from beings in lines

you who have escaped the noise of war

of military might, of the rapes of your women

and the slow genocide of encroaching viruses

you now find yourself in a jungle hut

with your country men having to share a toothbrush

and a bar of soap

among plenty

as you weep from exhaustion

from hauling mud and concrete

in heat and rain, you who

build our cities and hide between

our politician’s lies

you who die unaccounted in our

detention camps, buried in unmarked earth

not your own

as you hold your head in

your tired hands – and

wish perhaps

for some noise