Refugees / George Dance

[George Dance]

Refugees

More than a mile the ragged line stretched out,
a mile of thin and dirty refugees
with here a limb gone, there an eye knocked out,
everywhere starvation and disease;
more than a mile to a rusting khaki van
(where soldiers handed out small bowls of rice)
to eat, and live another day, and then
another day among the flies and lice.
The last one in the line was a small boy
with thin arms, holding up his hands for grain,
a meagre mouthful that would not bring joy
to him, or even still his stomach's pain.
Rations finished – soldiers with no more –
a small boy turned away – another war.

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George Dance