Asylum: A found poem

Asylum In a bare compound off a dirt road: Bureaucrats Borders Migrants. They want to escape: Dust Joblessness Poverty Persecution. If the answer is yes, They are spared the risky journey Through the desert And on the deadly boats. “We’re here to stop people from dying,“ Said the deputy, But few are actually approved. The message: “Stay home. Do not risk a perilous journey For a claim that would be denied.” Humanitarian ideals Striking out: New methods, Questionable results. Something has shifted. The bus stations are empty. The police check identity documents. A sign outside bears the flag And warns passengers not to travel without papers. “Those with legitimate claims have a chance.” But it is very low. “We can’t welcome everybody.” It is a policy without heart. The smugglers herd together: Beat them, Rape them, Extort money. Some are sold into slavery Before being loaded onto rickety boats. Officials look for cases Whose persecution might qualify. In a day of interviews At the sweltering center Candidates waited pensively Looking resigned as they sat on benches. A refugee Showed scars on her body And on her 2-year-old child. A woman Asked whether she ever phoned her family: “I never tell them where I am” A girl Who spent time in a camp: “If I return, they will put me underground.” After nearly two hours a verdict finally came: “You will have the right to enter legally, You will be granted a residence permit, You will be given accommodations You will have the right to work.” Barely. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Poem found in French Outpost in African Migrant Hub, Asylum for a Select Few, The New York Times, February 25, 2018

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