Migrants Dead - Again
Migrants Dead and More Migrants Die - Another Day In Paradise
Here we go again, another day, another Syrian life
The story continues as the world turns it's back - again
A mother of a son sends him to life.
Life is the opposite of death in a distant place.
If her son stays in this death ridden place he will die.
Her options feel like no option.
Her decision isn't careful, it's desperate.
Her life has been long enough. Her sons life is just starting.
War surrounds them. The terror of terrorists is real. Death is no longer news, death is simply something that might visit today.
She like many mothers and many fathers wants her son safe.
What can she do?
Where does she turn?
War is bastard and bastard is war. It's real, very real and a choice has been taken.
The mother prays to her God hoping this is the right choice.
A mother kisses her son on his head, on his face, on his lips.
She cries He cries She has paid to send him to life.
They both cry endless tears until the moment they part She has resigned to death itself.
Another death in bloody, heartless, Godless Syria.
The Syrian people are beautiful and innocent.
They love their God.
They love their Gods Why is my God allowing this they cry?
My God has a purpose and this is part of it they cry.
War is bastard
War kills those that don't want war
More blood poured out for nothing
"Son my son, go with this man to a greater place. There is no death in the place you will go. The man has promised me times and times again that death will be gone.
You shall enter into a new life in a new country where life resides for you" He wants to stay with his mother.
Thats the way of family and he loves his family.
Father is dead, slaughtered by the men in black He is dead, father is dead.
Finally the son who is a man says goodbye to his motherHe walks and weeps with endless wailing and gnashing of teethHe knows nothing about the future but only what the man who is taking him tells him.
"Sir where am I to go to?"
"You will go to work and a new life I shall put you onto a boat, you shall sail the clearest seas until you come to the land of safety.
There shall be milk
There shall be honey
You will have peace
Life will surround you"
"Sir what about my mother?"
"She is lost amongst a nation that is altogether lost never to be found again"
"Sir will she die"
"Son she is dead and has been dead since the war began"
"I will return for my mother and take her to safety.
Once the nations see how we have been treated, once they know how we have been killed, once they know how we have struggled to take a breath day by day they will finish this misery"
"Sir they will won’t they?"
"Son just be happy you live, just be happy, be happy"
"I shall return as a conquering hero for my mother and family. No nation, no general, no commander, no king, no queen, no president once they see the slaughter here will stand by and allow it to continue".
"Son just follow me, I will look after you for now".
The son has stopped his tears for now
The man in his dark clothes, black leather jacket, dark skin and blacker than black hair leads the way.
Sometime later they arrive at the harbour It’s dark It’s cold.
There are at least half of a thousand people waiting to climb aboard a boat.
The boat is painted green.
The boat has no lights.
The boat has no topThere is no room on the boat"Sir should I get on this boat?"
"Yes"
"Sir is this boat safe?"
"Yes"
The boy is nervous, will his life end in the unfamiliar waters like many that have travelled before him since the war began.
They leave for life and quickly find death.
A lonely death in a sea.
Watched by nations.
A reality show of death.
Millions watch from the comfort of their own homes whilst eating in front of the TV."
Son your mother has paid her due of three years of wage for you to be here you should climb aboard and come back for her later as you said.
"The son stops to think for a moment Is this boat safe? Will I be safe? The son stands and looks at the fearful faces of those boarding A boat filled, packed loaded to the point the bow of the boat almost touches the water.
One more person will the boar go beneath? The son stands and listens to the screams from those that scream It doesn't feel right but he climbs on board.
An older woman that still cares calls him as she can see he is alone.
"Are you alone my son?"
"Yes but I will come back for my mother".
"Will you sit with me during this journey?"
"Yes I will"
She wraps her arms around him despite never meeting him. She understands. Her men have all had their lives removed from the land by the swords of the foreigner in black. The woman has enough love left inside her to hold this boy close. She like to love. The boy like to feel her love. Just for now anyway.
They both sit in a pit that is wet, stinking and has the air of putrid rotting death embedding into the heart of this boat.
There are dozens running for their lives here There are hundreds on this boatAnd the sea is unkindThe wind is harshThe cold removes all sense of comfort.
Even the skin of the woman that pulls the boy closer to her feels like the cold slaughtered pig upon a table.
One hour passes under the stars.
Two hours pass under the starts.
Three hours pass under the stars.
The wind has slowed.
The sea looks like glass.
The boy looks out only to see a long line of light shining into infinity from the moon across the endless bed of water.
He know the stars as all Syrian Shepard boys know the stars from walking with the goat.
Four hours have passed.
Five hours now feel like ten hours.
The night has no end
until finally light and land can be seen.
The man that put the boy on the boat stands,
goes to the edge of the boat.
He grabs a small rope
and pulls a small boat closer to the big boat.
The man stands over the side
and jumps into the small boat.
A motor is heard
until the noise vanishes into the distance.
Only the boy saw this taking place,
yet the boy says nothing
as he trusts the man.
Minutes pass — is he coming back?
Thirty minutes pass.
Another two hours pass.
The sound of those seeking refuge from Syria
can be heard as they awaken.
The boat makes a noise.
The boat makes a second noise.
The boat hits, cracks, rips and tears
as a rock comes through the bottom
where the old man and his family sleep.
Everyone screams.
Everyone cries.
Everyone panics.
The boy holds the hand of the woman tight.
"We must jump into the water and swim,
we must swim for our lives."
The woman says nothing
but tells the boy to go first.
"Son you must jump and swim for your life,
son you must swim to the lights
and swim for your life,
your new life."
"Mother you must swim with me."
"Son I cannot swim.
I am to die today a miserable death
but shall join my men that went before me."
He jumps.
He swims.
He grabs land.
He climbs out.
He sits with just a handful from the five hundred,
cold, wet, hungry and seeking love.
The new day has just started.
A man like the other man
but not the other man
approaches those that still live.
"Run, come with me to safety.
I am waiting for you."
They have no option.
The boy has no option.
They all follow and run
until they come to an old building
with a large truck parked inside.
The man speaks to the people:
*"You must all go into the van.
Do not make a sound.
Do not cry.
Do not cough.
Do not weep.
If you are heard you will be sent back
to the land of death.
If you are found you will be treated badly
and put into a prison.
If caught you will be called migrant,
and migrant here means you are a criminal.
Criminals are treated badly.
You will be treated badly."*
"Those that understand
please jump into the van."
All, apart from two women and another old man,
jump into the van.
They are the children of the man.
The man has surrendered to death
and refuses to move one step.
They are left to their finality,
whatever that may be.
The van begins to drive.
Not a word or a whisper
or even a breath
can be heard amongst the handful or so
packed into the small van.
The driver doesn’t care.
The roads don’t care.
The birds in the sky don’t care.
The country where they drive doesn’t care.
The nation sees nothing.
It’s hopeless.
One man speaks.
The other man smacks his head
as a sign to silence him.
Another speaks quiet.
They all agree to agree to the silence
until the doors open.
There’s been no food for three days now.
There’s been no water for two days now.
The truck is cold.
The roads are heartless.
Until that is, the truck comes to a stop.
Fear fills the hearts of all,
apart from the two men that died on the first day.
Yes, two survivors from the boat have died.
They had begun to stink.
No one moves.
Silence fills the van.
They all hear the sound of the driver open the door,
close the door
and leave the van.
They can all hear the sound of the traffic passing.
People drive to work.
Parents driving their children to school.
Mothers in cars.
Fathers in cars.
People doing the things people do.
They know nothing is to be said
and they trust that this is best for now.
It sounds busy outside,
they might be heard
and might be heard by the wrong people.
The night comes along
and fear has spread among them all,
yet the fear of being caught
has become greater
than their fear for survival.
Another man has died.
The smell of death is so very great.
The darkness holds its sleep.
Even the most tired sit awake,
hungry, starving and close to death.
The van hasn’t moved for 3 days.
No noise is heard.
Not a single breath.
Has an angel passed in the night
and removed the suffering of all?
Five days later a driver notices
the van has been parked on the road for five days.
He calls the police.
The police arrive.
The man that reported the van
is a father of three wonderful children.
The policeman had to climb from his soft luxurious bed
to come and see what was taking place.
But only after coffee.
But only after bread.
But only after he enjoyed the simple pleasure
of walking his dog outside
in the early sunshine
before the day begins.
Finally the door of the van is opened.
The stench.
The smell.
The flies.
The faeces.
The putrid rotten faces of the children of Syria
looking for life from their world of death.
It’s all over.
A boy falls out.
He is dead.
He is the son of the mother that was left behind.
He has a note in his pocket:
"Mother I love you.
I am coming to death
so please be there when I arrive."
Does no one care about these people?
The United Nations is a myth.
The Commonwealth is a farce.
The Arab League is in league with nothing.
The Euro zone is zoned out.
It’s a cold.
It’s a miserable.
It’s a hard.
Heartless world that has become so numb
to the plight of others
they no longer see others as part of humanity.
Just another number.
Just another Syrian death.
Just another despicable heartless act
in a heartless despicable world.
The mother let go.
All mothers let go.
The bodies of the weak will never be buried.
The scared and the helpless
will always be scared and helpless.
The policeman looks.
He does his job.
He drives back home.
He tells his wife.
He takes his dog for a walk.
The birds continue to sing.
The cars continue to drive by.
Even the stars are unmoved by the tragic events.
Migrants die and refugees die.
More dead, more found dead.
They run and drown,
they flee and are rounded up
like they have escaped from a prison.
The media has created a lie
that migrant is criminal
and criminal is migrant.
The nations will tickle the ears of the nations
but these are numbers and numbers only.
Another dead migrant appears to be one less problem?
The world will continue,
years will pass
and generations will forget this waste.
Yet what are we doing right now
to save our Syrian brothers?
Alan Forrest Smith
