Posted in Poems

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



I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. In recent years, the younger generation have added on to include spouses from the Philippines, Nigeria and Russia. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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