Futility

Futility

By Evelyn Ellis.

If Wordsworth lived today would he write of golden daffodils?
Would he see the flow of people crossing seas and borders as going
away from despair or towards it?

Despair leaches from the news and the world seems helpless or
maybe hopeless in the effort to stem or cope with the mass of humanity
searching for a different life.

Weariness and strain fills their faces, all sense of hope erased by the simple
effort of staying alive and keeping their feet shuffling forward, because
forward seems the only way to go.

Anger when their way is barred, mayhem and violence at barbed wire gates,
behind which citizens of other countries fear this intrusion on their well-ordered
lives and wish all to be as before.

Fear, that among this maelstrom swirling towards them, there are young, fit
offering no aid to the women and children. Men with evil in their hearts and the intent
to bring death and destruction to the west.

Suffer the little children, and suffer they surely do. Brought along on
this wild and risky bid for freedom for a better way of life. Small faces show
the puzzlement they feel looking at a strange world.

Surely it was never meant to be like this? Like Wordsworth waffling about daffodils,
Nero fiddling while watching Rome burn, poets and wordsmiths manipulating words,
world leaders are caught up in useless talk.

Can anyone fix this ghastly mess?

AUTHOR BIO

EVELYN ELLLIS lives in Far North Queensland, Australia. At the age of 76 she is widely read and enjoys writing. She loves poetry but does not profess to be a poet. The fate of the refugees entering Europe moved her to try verse.

Photo by Emily Carlin.

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