Anglophile (The Jungle) by David Wilson

Battered blue canvas

My home

Chilly shack

Shared with strangers

Now brothers


New family

Take the place

Of sisters shot

Or worse

Of brothers bombed



A few possessions

Prized photos

Faded passport

Water stained

By sea and tears


Muddy rucksack

With shabby worn shirts

And light-weight jacket

Poor protection

In winter’s chill wind



Yet none as precious

As faint hope

Of safe haven

In the land

I learnt of in youth


A land of hope

And democracy

Of free press


World-class university

Somewhere I know

I can be free



But now flames lick

At my meagre home

Belongings held close

Clinging to faith

In intangible dream


Take hope away

And you burn my soul


One thought on “Anglophile (The Jungle) by David Wilson

  1. Pingback: Donald Trump has got yellow eyes | debasis mukhopadhyay

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