Borders

Borders

Patrick Sammut

Help.

The plea of thousands,
the plea of youth, women and men
the aged and newborn one wrinkle –
their arms wide open,
praying to be given a handful of bread,
a sip of water and shelter.

TV spectators.
Me and those around me
pity comfortably our neighbour’s misfortunes,
sinking in crocodile’s tears.
Moaning ’cause of ulcers in our stomachs
’cause of our greed in which we’re drowning.

Here,
we walk godless,
the same closed circle
’til we stand no more, unknowingly,
and with the touch of a button
we go back to Apathy.
Kings, queens, ruffians of Vanity,
blind and deaf, smiling...

The borders that divide us are still with us.
Tangible, not ghosts of the past.