Refugees

The government calls,
we do as they say.
Go where we must,
this winter day.

Uncompromising cold, punishing wind,
dormant earth entombed in frost.
Weary donkey takes uncertain steps,
desperate couple fears they’re lost.

Bonfires below, ghostly figures,
on closer inspection, shepherds smile,
with a gesture show the way,
the last of many arduous miles.

Dilapidated stable, single candle,
weary mother, a lullaby sings
for lambs, cows, goats and a dog,
to the sleeping, newborn king.

Flickering hope, tired souls,
unwanted, despised refugee
in fate’s grip I recall
you were turned away like me.

The government calls,
we do as they say.
Go where we must,
This Christmas Day.

Edward J. Urbanowski