by Elizabeth Hare
\nISBN 978-1-9999728-8-2
\nPrice \u00a35<\/p>\n
Sold out<\/strong>\r\ncopies can be obtained direct from the poet's website:\r\nhttp:\/\/elizabethhare.co.uk\/index.php\/publications\/<\/a><\/pre>\n<\/p>\n
The poems here are concerned with issues affecting the poet\u2019s daily life: her work with refugees, coronavirus and lockdown. Directness and warmth are their hallmark, bringing a thoughtful compassion to bear on immediate experience.<\/p>\n
“heartfelt appreciation is exactly what I<\/em> felt at the end of reading, rereading and reflecting on this beautiful timely pamphlet.” Jane Thomas, Sphinx<\/p>\n
\nUndocumented<\/h4>\n
In January 2020, <\/em>The Guardian reported over 600,000 undocumented migrants in this country. The authorities do not have the resources to find and deport them.<\/em><\/p>\n
That\u2019s how they came here,
\nno passports, no papers.
\nT shirts, shorts, flip flops,
\neverything they had in a plastic bag
\n\u2013 November in the north of England.<\/p>\nFour young men; I never heard their stories.
\nHamid spoke a little English,
\nwanted to learn more.
\nLater he fell off his bicycle, broke his arm.
\nThe NHS documented that.<\/p>\nRamon sat in the corner and played with this phone
\nHe didn\u2019t speak, always afraid.<\/p>\nAmin lied about his age; said he was younger than he was.
\nLots of us do that.
\nHe got fined for dropping a cigarette end in the street
\nin Doncaster where he went visiting.
\nThe Council documented that.<\/p>\nDyar only stayed one day,
\ncadged twenty quid off someone and went to Liverpool.<\/p>\nThe others stayed two years and were refused
\nthe new life, the freedom they came looking for,
\nso they took it anyway, and disappeared.<\/p>\nThey are out there somewhere, falling off bicycles
\ndropping cigarette ends.<\/p>\nI document them here.<\/p>\n
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