Andy Szikla. The Refugee

The Refugee

His father was Wanted, and lived on the run
He woke up one morning when he was a boy
His mother lay dead with a needle in bed
They took her away and then he was alone

He grew up with strangers but he would not speak
They beat him with leather but he would not cry
Like a dog they put down that crawled out of the ground
He felt safe in the darkness away from mankind

Now his knuckles are blackened, his face is all torn
Arrested and chained up he killed his way free
He showed them a vengeance for his life of pain
And ran from their bullets, like a Refugee

***

From the bush cold and hungry he came to a farmhouse
He bust through the door with a cold iron bar
Put a man to the floor where he lay still and bleeding
His wife in the doorway all frozen in fear

He said “make me some dinner”, so she went to the kitchen
She made him some coffee, she made him some eggs
He said “who else is here?”, and she said “nobody”
But her only daughter lay under the bed

And when he had finished, she stood there crying
He watched her and lingered and wiped his knife clean
She shouted out “RUN !”, and he heard a door slam
And the terrified footsteps, of a Refugee

***

She crossed the south field, to the house of a stranger
Screaming and wailing she fell at the door
Then the house it went dark, but the view from the keyhole
Was a man with a bloody knife coming for her

She begged on her knees “won’t you please let me in”
He looked through the keyhole right into her eye
Then the man with the bloody knife, he came and he took her
He dragged her away and then all became quiet

Inside the dark house, he slumped in the doorway
His wife in a bedroom they’d locked with a key
She felt scared in the darkness, away from mankind
Hiding from danger, like a Refugee

***

Well he cleaned up the blood, with soap and with water
From the wound of a tattoo that he had begun
Of a picture he made, from a withering echo
Of the father he wanted, who lived on the run

Was he risen from shame, to a house made of gold
In a place with no killing where he could belong ?
All he knew was this life, and this life kept him running
Running from trouble and running so long

Running for shelter, he was running for shelter
He was running for shelter, like a Refugee

Running for shelter, he was running for shelter
They were running for shelter, like a Refugee