Refugees


At school there was a weekly collection 

for charity.

I saved up my biscuit money

so that

I did not seem different, more impoverished

than the rest.

And so that I had something to give to those

less fortunate.

I knew what charities were, you see.

Well, except for the one called

‘Refugees’.

I did not know what refugees were.

This was 1956.

Only six years after the ending of a war

creating millions

of refugees

and I had to ask what they were

several times.

Even then,

I didn’t understand.

It made no sense to me.

I didn’t understand.



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