Poems about refuge are a fantastic way to promote recovery and understanding. These poems can be powerful tools for raising awareness about the global refugee crisis.
Refugees are migrants who are forced to leave their home countries due to certain circumstances. The refugee crisis is affecting countries and regions around the world.
In some cases, refugees remain in host countries for an extended period, and despite the challenges, refugees make significant contributions to their host communities.
Refugee poems can raise awareness about the refugee experience among a broader audience. Poems about refugees allow refugees to express their emotions, experiences and struggles creatively.
Most of the refugee poems touch on themes of hope and the strength of their spirit. Let’s read some Poems about refuge and feel the spirit of hope and reliability.
Digital Haven
When I have no `where left to go
I come back to this blog where I feel known.
I type for hours, and don’t expect flowers
This page is comfortable, it fits my tone.
If you trace my journey from the start,
There’s tears in many moments; a piece of my heart
Years may have passed, but in every part,
Words have been my solace, a work of art.
In this digital haven, where stories are sown,
I’ve found my refuge, a place to be shown.
Amongst kindred spirits, I’ve truly grown,
In pixels and text, my feelings flow
His Hideaway
You are asking for advice
but you can’t see reason
You are tired of her tantrums
but going against her? Treason
You know the facts
this is an issue
She may be waiting
but she doesn’t miss you
Reader’s Refuge
I long for solitude;
The day’s barking tyrants
Drained my reservoir.
Thirsty for life,
I search for my oasis
On life’s arid expanses.
I witness the crucifixion;
I watch firefighters burn books;
I can’t resist the sirens’ call.
The ionizing words mutate me;
I read, and I’m pierced.
The tyrant’s visage, shattered.
The last priest
The Last Priest smiled his blessing
indiscriminately, bridging, seeding,
building a new priesthood
beyond borders, across tribes,
ignoring gender, discounting class,
blind to race, snubbing rank,
denying privilege and preferring
a new holy nationality for refugees
for stateless souls like mine
– like ours
My Brain is an Immigrant
By Senait Hagose
My mind can travel anywhere
Across the ocean, across dry land
Past, present and future
No traffic lights or mind the gap
No one can stop me moving.
My eyes can see the un-seeable
My ears can hear the un-hearable
My hands can touch the invisible.
I think non-stop.
More bad, less good.
Fear, flashback, scared, hopeless,
Stressful.
Sometimes I see no future.
More sadness.
Loneliness.
Insecurity.
This is my immigrant mind.
Out of Love –
I don’t like to look at the world
through foggy eyes
as if everything could become
a chapter in a long poem.
I am not in love with
every small creature on this farm
whatever they are;
birds, small untamed flowers on the edge of a small rivulet,
the unresting breeze,
clinging to the trees and to the slender leaves,
chasing right into the secret crannies
on the ground.
I don’t have time to watch the dense mud,
shaped by a tractor wheel,
next to the garden gate,
which is turning into shining brown
day by day.
I shan’t even remember, when I return to city,
what is missing in my life.
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.
This was all about the Poems about refuge.