Flushed out of hiding

They hide in secret rooms.
Crouched in ceilings and under floorboards.
Behind partitions and secret passageways.
Illegals trying to elude capture.

They come here illegally.
No work permit nor legal documents.
Desperate for work,
Hunger their motivation.

We judge them a nuisance.
A threat in our neighbourhoods.
We complain and gripe about them.
Do we really see them?

A game of hide-and-seek,
Between illegals and enforcement.
Escape routes plugged,
Hunting them, they try to flee.

Tales of misery they tell the media.
We have heard them all.
Also of victimisation their story.
We become immune over time.

How to sympathise, where is empathy?
Unwanted foreigners in our country,
Makeshift homes, squatter houses,
We close our eyes, it won’t go away.

Marginalised, outcast, shunned.
A people displaced, not wanted.
Illegals because of poverty,
Searching for work, hungry always.

Weary and tired of being watchful.
Always looking over their shoulder.
Afraid of being caught in a trap.
Of being flushed out of hiding.

By C.E. Pereira
(2-9-3013)