Golfo di Macari from the summit of Monte Monaco, Sicily, Italy

           A Migrant's Lay

 

             They'd said at least I would have had a chance.

             It took me endless days, a slave again,

             and sleepless nights, with past and future ghosts,

             to save the cash and find the guts for it. 

             I'll always bless the time at last I quit.

 

             No desert, thug or sickness could have me,

             as long as my beloved child walked by,

             until this long-awaited water did.

             Already gone, I only let it win

             when trawlers neared my girl and pulled her in.             

               

 

 

               First published in Orbis (UK)