For Jamie

-
I was trying to explain to our four year old son why I was heading off to Africa for a couple of months to do some humanitarian work, and ended up writing my thoughts down a bit more formally so I could get them straight in my head.

FOR JAMIE


When I was young I watched the stars
And wondered if there’s life on Mars
I thought it really would be ace
To live my life out there in Space

I imagined us - all cast astray
Our tiny rock in the Milky Way
Spinning with an awesome power
At over a million miles per hour.

And I realised just how small we seem
A humble part of the grandest scheme
Inconsequential – or so I thought
With time so long but life so short

When I was young it seemed to me
The simplest way for humanity
To survive in our small patch of Space
Was to unite -    one human race!

I thought:

“Who cares what tiny part of this tiny rock hurtling through the Universe you come from?
We’re all in this together! Together we can make this life such an amazing adventure!”

But as I grew old
I was often told
I should’ve cared
I should be scared

They told me:

“Be scared of those different to you
With different thoughts, of different hue
Be worried – they just want what’s yours
We shouldn’t let them near our shores

“Scroungers”, “migrants”, “refugees”
They’d always use words such as these
As if somehow it’d make them be
Any less a person than you or me

I see you now son, setting out
On your own adventure - there’s no doubt
There will be highs, there will be lows
That’s just the way that this life goes

When you’re riding high and things are great
I hope that you’ll appreciate
How quickly circumstance can shift
And you’ll be the one who needs a lift.

And I hope you’ll feel you always can
Offer help to your fellow man
Not because I told you to
But ‘cause you think it’s the right thing too

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Want My Country Back

-
Image
I want my country back. I want it to be great again; it feels so different now. I hear conversations on the tube I never used to hear, and it makes me uncomfortable. I want my country back I worry that we’ll forget what “British” really means. This isn’t what that generation fought for, not so long ago. What would they think if they saw what we’ve become? I want my country back They’re not like us at all. They don’t fit in. They don’t even try. They’re just out for themselves. They don’t play by the rules. They don’t care about our values. I want my country back. I want to take control. I want things how they were in the good old days. Cold nights, warm beer, drizzle underdogs and queues. Sarcasm, lack of respect for authority. Inclusivity. Diversity. A country that welcomes your contribution to society whoever you are, wherever you’re from, whatever your faith. I want my country back. T...
Read more

Going Viral

-
Image
Memories of working in Sierra Leone: I’ve had enough of this. Their voices start to blend into the mechanical monotony of the air conditioning unit. Sitting opposite each other at the far end of the table, they gesticulate like policemen directing traffic at a busy junction. “I’m just going to get some fresh air, I’ll just be outside” I say as I begin to shuffle past them to the door. They pause their conversation to theatrically rearrange the furniture; ensuring I don’t come within a couple of metres of them as I go past. As the door opens, the stale heat envelops me. I light a cigarette and make my way over the cobbled courtyard to a welcome area of shade. We’d just got a call to say the little boy had died. The news was like a sucker punch. Hit after hit after hit had been raining down but this had come when we were looking the other way. He’d been through so much. From the day he arrived at Kerrytown, he’d never been far from death, but his malnourished body had foug...
Read more

What If?

-
I’ve got a confession to make. I’m in my early thirties, I have a wife and kids and a fairly responsible job, and for the vast majority of the time I’m winging it. I am technically a grown up. In 2010, whilst loading a pram into the back of our second-hand Skoda I felt the last vestiges of my youth float up into the ether. And from that moment on, I’ve been waiting. Waiting for someone to sit me down and explain to me what it is to be grown up. To talk through tracker mortgages, self-assessment forms and school catchment areas. To  explain  pensions, life insurance and to tell me how to bleed a radiator. To give me a card I can keep in my wallet that says “Adult”. One that I can look at every now and then say to myself “Don’ t stress about it , you’ve got this”. I ’m  starting to think it  is n’t ever going to happen. That I’ll go through life an imposter: busking-it, making it up on-the-hoof, a joker in a world of sober-suited professionals with “5 year p...
Read more