GO, MY CHILD
The touch of your face
burns my hand.
And your eyes hurt
the sand.

Stay,
My child,
Stay another year,
an hour?
I have much to say.

I would cut my arteries open
And dance
Myself to death
If I could renew
My blood in you,
And mince my meat
With sand
To replenish the land
That is to be
Your second womb.

But I cannot
And you cannot.

I know that look.

There is another sky
that calls.
Another love
that will not wait.
A bond
You cannot break.

Forgive me,
My child,
For making it hard,
I am selfish.

Go,
My child
Go.

Prosper and thrive,
Grow
beyond my touch.

And remember
My child
there is much
to remember.

The poem below by Adam Zameenzad was published in a book last year - Cause of Death: Seeking Refuge. An Incomplete List. (currently in German only) 

Kristina Milz + Anja Tuckermann (Hrsg.):
Todesursache: Flucht. Eine unvollständige Liste Hirnkost 2018

In the past 25 years over 35,000 people seeking refuge in Europe have died on their way there or when they have already arrived. On the occasion of International Human Rights Day on December 10, 2018, a list of the dead was published (the documented cases) in book form. The list was compiled by the organization UNITED for Intercultural Action in Amsterdam. Most of the deceased are unnamed. Survivors have given some names that have also been included. The intention is to cast a light on the people that they were to help others better grasp the scale of this tragedy – and to grant the debate about refugees and death a human face.
The book spanning more than 300 pages is supplemented by short portraits of some of the deceased, survivor reports and contributions from prominent supporters of the project.

You can see more about the project or the book here.

​Yet another grave
In the cemetery of my endless skin!
I am tired of creating graves
Tired of walking upon them
Stumbling
In search of my own.

Too many graves
Are confusing
To the gravebound.
Here ‘s one marked Hope
Number 337a
There is plan 89
And that is Dream C/91/10 ref K
Strangled at birth.

By contrast, this was old,
Died from exhaustion;
The one across was murdered
By natural caused.

Graves of friendships, loves,
And children
Of the bone, if not the flesh
Lie
Without a legend to their name
Or a name to their legend.

My toes bleed
As they strike upon fallen headstones
Broken urns
Thorns from roses planted
And forgotten,

And words of hate
Scattered on grass
Like shattered glass
By friends and lovers.

The silence of some
Cut deeper than pain.

My dad loved cats; he published six books in several languages and five of them were dedicated to his cats. He gave them weird and wonderful names and when one died or was lost, his heart break was plain to see.  In his book 'My Friend Matt his dedication read; ' In loving memory of Mamma Walters and her five children: the un-named, BB, Benjamin, ET, and Chu chu. all of whom died within six months of her death. Also for Itsy and baby Charlotte.  May their bodies make the earth more fertile for the hungry.'

I do not know whether I am crying because I miss my dad or whether I can still feel his loss for every one of the above named.  Perhaps its' both.

Adam  Zameenzad appeared on the British literary scene in 1987 with the publication of ‘The Thirteenth House’ which won the ‘David Higham’ prize for the First Best Novel of the year.  It was followed by his most popular and best loved book ‘My Friend Matt and Henna The Whore’ in 1988, in 1989 ‘Love Bones & Water’ was published and in 1990 ‘Cyrus Cyrus’  each receiving the same degree of critical acclaim accorded to his first novel both here in the UK and the US.  He went on to write two other books, ‘Gorgeous white female’ and his last published book ‘Pepsi & Maria.’

He was a non-conformist and sacrificed all in order to be the voice of compassion and humanity.  

Review on ‘My Friend Matt & Henna The Whore.’ – 
‘Beautifully written, imbued with enormous integrity and insight, his book is a plea for us to exercise humanity towards our fellow humans; it is in the characters’ expressions of love and care that we are offered a glimmer of hope, both for the present and the future.’ – Time Out