For Mariama and Abdul
As he rode his bicycle away from his last job, He valiantly tried to hold back the tears, But they slipped down anyway, Just like the day he'd left his family in Afghanistan, "I'm going to find a better life for us", He said to his wife as he hugged her goodbye, His son Abdul clung to his legs and refused to let go, With a heavy heart, he climbed into the waiting truck, It thundered into the night with him hidden under a tarp, Each bump in the road struck fear in his heart, But that was minor compared to the rocking waves of the sea, For days he laid on the floor of a wooden box, A small hole his only connection to the outside world, Whenever he was seized with panic, He thought of Mariama and Abdul, They were his reason for survival, When he finally reached English soil, He thought his problems were over, Little did he know that five years later, He would still be living in a rat box room, washing cars for a living, Even that has now been taken