Wonderful bit of writing

Bart Wolffe


As soon as he first learnt to walk
The purpose became clear,
How he could get away from those
Who were too close,
From family, from people,
A child becomes a refugee
The way when he understood
The gift of speech was silence.
Among the crowds he found
His hiding place called anonymity
In strange cities in foreign lands
Now that Africa had been discovered
And man’s footprint already on the moon.
The only other option left
Was close the door and stay inside his room.
Then, when he switched off the searchlight
No-one could get to him.

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