The Migrants

 
The stomping, Oh! the stomping
Somebody stop it!
Like a never-ending punishment
They walk all over me
They march, they tread, they trudge
Not alone but in drones
My potholes don’t scare them
My signals don’t stop them
My crossroads don’t confuse them
They walk
With mulish determination
They just keep walking
 
I stare up at the blinding sun
It must be noon
His mocking glare is high on display
He seems annoyed, angry even
It is summer
His time to shine
Also burn
But these marchers don’t show him respect
They walk with baggage
They walk with young ones
They walk with sheer lunacy
They just keep walking
 
It’s a war I am forced to be a part of
They walk
The sun burns
They wipe their brow
Shield their head
But they just keep walking
 
The sun is losing
Losing his cool too
Like me
I am tired
Get off my back
It hurts
Take your party someplace else
I can bear your weight no longer
 
But no, who are they to care?
What a selfish world have we come to?