Yet another tragedy that we can blame on foolhardiness, mafia networks, porous borders, but in the end, people are dead for chasing a dream we reserve for ourselves.


There are arguments and activists,
but the waves take no position,
the dinghies have no opinion,

the faces fixed on the horizon know only
the hardship of back there
and the possibilities of up ahead.

They have hands that know work,
heads full of dreams,
diplomas and recommendations.

There are women who have nothing
and children with empty stomachs,
and they all count waves and try not to dream.

They might have listened to lies,
been robbed, raped, threatened,
but they are here on the waves,

and the waves don’t care
if they live or die.
They have no opinion.

Only we have opinions,
we who are not drifting in hazard,

only we believe we can sell poor people missiles,
extract their subterranean wealth,
turn their forests into plantations,

take away their fishing boats
and give them work in luxury hotels,
make them paupers in their own land.

Only we say, thus far and no further,
this land is my land, it’s not your land,
go back, begone, get thee behind me,

in the name of fairness, legality and global trade,
in the name of the Father, for better, for worse,
for ever and ever, amen.