Refugees

The Protocols speak of Open EU borders/frontiers & a EU currency

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  1. Give Croatia a Jubilee and we will have the money to take them in….tell the IMF 2 forgive our debts….more boats will sink…just a mater of time….ur the female schindler’s list of refugees now

    “No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark.”

    ― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

  2. “Home”, A Refugee Poem
    Author Maggie Wagner
    Published onNovember 18, 2016
    Home, by Warsan Shire (British-Somali poet)

    no one leaves home unless
    home is the mouth of a shark.

    you only run for the border
    when you see the whole city
    running as well.

    your neighbours running faster
    than you, the boy you went to school with
    who kissed you dizzy behind
    the old tin factory is
    holding a gun bigger than his body,
    you only leave home
    when home won’t let you stay.

    no one would leave home unless home
    chased you, fire under feet,
    hot blood in your belly.

    it’s not something you ever thought about
    doing, and so when you did –
    you carried the anthem under your breath,
    waiting until the airport toilet
    to tear up the passport and swallow,
    each mouthful of paper making it clear that
    you would not be going back.

    you have to understand,
    no one puts their children in a boat
    unless the water is safer than the land.

    who would choose to spend days
    and nights in the stomach of a truck
    unless the miles travelled
    meant something more than journey.

    no one would choose to crawl under fences,
    be beaten until your shadow leaves you,
    raped, then drowned, forced to the bottom of
    the boat because you are darker, be sold,
    starved, shot at the border like a sick animal,
    be pitied, lose your name, lose your family,
    make a refugee camp a home for a year or two or ten,
    stripped and searched, find prison everywhere
    and if you survive and you are greeted on the other side
    with go home blacks, refugees
    dirty immigrants, asylum seekers
    sucking our country dry of milk,
    dark, with their hands out
    smell strange, savage –
    look what they’ve done to their own countries,
    what will they do to ours?

    the dirty looks in the street
    softer than a limb torn off,
    the indignity of everyday life
    more tender than fourteen men who
    look like your father, between
    your legs, insults easier to swallow
    than rubble, than your child’s body
    in pieces – for now, forget about pride
    your survival is more important.

    i want to go home, but home is the mouth of a shark
    home is the barrel of the gun
    and no one would leave home
    unless home chased you to the shore
    unless home tells you to
    leave what you could not behind,
    even if it was human.

    no one leaves home until home
    is a damp voice in your ear saying
    leave, run now, i don’t know what
    i’ve become.

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