Your Refugee #1

I am your refugee
Patrolling ditches and ravines
Alongside your roads and highways.

In the dusk before nightfall
I move.
Stumbling at midnight
I move.

Alerted by the screaming complaint
Of your Stukas' siren  
I flatten into the earth
Clawing a shallow grave
To mark my passing.

Scorched earth burns
Along with carts
Mules
Children
And old women.
Men perish sheltering
Their children and wives.

I am your refugee.

PUKA PUKA PUKA PUKA
Your machine guns
Tear the heads from little boys
The arms and legs from little girls
Making them rag dolls
In lots too small for burying.

Get up! Get up! Move!
I implore
But an old woman says
To what end?
Are we not all dead?

My arms dangle uselessly at my sides.
My trousers are burnt and blood soaked.
I must die.

I am your refugee.