One rocky isle in the open sea,
A safe haven for people who flee,
The desperate, hungry, refugees.
Part of a whole greater than itself.
Before the dark times came.
When there’s a loss in prosperity,
There can be a crisis of identity.
Demagogues on the prowl,
Finding someone to blame.
‘Let’s get back control today,
Let’s go it alone,
Let’s do it our way’.
So to the ballot box they descended,
Consensus they ended,
And yes, they went their own way,
Banners flying for Independence Day.
Viewed outsiders with scorn.
Old agreements null and void,
So new arrangements need to be made,
Going far and wide to sell our wares,
For any price,
To anyone there.
Meanwhile back on the Isle,
Poisonous ideas were on the rise,
Who fits in and who doesn’t not,
be gone with them,
Let’s make Isola great again.’
Brain drain followed,
For them not the cold of this barren rock,
One by one they left, they left,
Leaving very little, little left.
They went their own way, they did of course,
But no nation is truly an island.
Much diminished this cruel island became,
The clue was in the name.
More Poetry: https://anthillel.wordpress.com/