I can’t get it out of my head the foot that crushed the snail
In the way that life goes on I want that foot to feel shame
Closed perfection and closed resurrection this is no gain
Dispersed for the sake of being dispersed
For the sake of nothing at all reduced to a messy little corpse
What is all this to do with moving on to an afterlife
God knows we have other things to think about
Getting our families out of this war to safety
Taking to the border who we are and what we stand for
Who cares about snails and their afterlife
What a wish getting our families to safety
Like sitting on eggs you just hope they will hatch
If ever again we arrive that we shoot at windows just for the faces behind them
Of course we should die of course we should be dead
Never again in eternity should we be allowed to open our eyes
What we did and are still doing to one another
There’s more to it than having a few scratches on our faces
Passports and bread these are not to be bruised or burned
These are not to be seen as belonging to the walking dead
Look for yourself at the queues waiting to be fed
None are talking none are shouting
Step at a time they are moving slower than the snail killed this morning

Ronald Rae