Refugees

REFUGEES I read of Rohingya Thrown out of Myanmar. In a city near Cox’s Bazar. I remember that place. It’s hundred-mile beach. Its waterfalls, jungles. Its beauty and peace. A place where turtles Come home to nest Where waterfalls Splash from on high. Where the jungle holds sway Over tourists at play, On the longest sand beach On our world. Please tell me I’m wrong. They are there for whose wrong? Their own? Or the Myanmar regime? A city? A slum… Yet still thousands come! While a whole race is shown the door. By an army upholding the law… Is it legal to kill For somebody’s will? Be they Muslim or Buddhist or more? Erase their existence, Ignore the insistence Of countries who don’t understand that for National pride, let religion decide. Put your trust in a faith’s genocide.