This is a poem about Shemima Begum, or more precisely, the nonsensical discussions that surrounded her request to return with her son to the country of her birth. It’s also about political deviousness and a lack of compassion, which many people mistake for a display of patriotism.
Dark-skinned Girl
A dark-skinned girl flew to a far-off land
Convinced by others of a righteous cause
She sought neither approval nor applause
From the family and friends she’d left behind
But went willingly to join a zealots’ band
Where the barely-sighted were led by the blind
And theft was punished by a severed hand
Vilified by politicians, people and press
Who are only willing evil to see
But yet consistently unable to agree
On whether someone of that young age
Is capable of deciding – even more or less
Which actions taken are foolish or sage
And which they should finally have to confess
She wanted to return with her new-born child
To the country where she was born
Despite some citizens’ anger and scorn
Now housed in a camp, unable freely to speak
Where violent men have their religion defiled
Though people pretend for justice to seek
They, for her, let rampant rumours run wild
But we hear now that her son has died
A loss of life which should make anyone sad
Yet some speak as if they were glad
That an innocent boy has yielded his life
For the mistakes made by his mother
The truth of her story of struggle and strife
Yields such common hatred of the other
We wonder whether the colour of her skin
Affected the desire to see a problem vanish
By those who had the power to banish
This victim from her native land
To a country where she had distant kin
Did prejudice play an evil hand
Or was she a victim of political sin?
O, those who are so quick to blame
Please think upon your neighbour’s daughter
And the trauma of inhuman slaughter
The dark-skinned girl was only a child
When she committed the original sin
Think of the youngsters that around us run wild
And tell us where does compassion begin?