Middlefocus: The Refugee Woman and Child

The beautiful church in central France where I met the Refugee Woman and Child

I wrote the following poem 50 years ago. Scalded by an experience I found that I could only express my feelings through writing it. Whatever the poem lacks in style and structure, the act of going home and penning it had a powerful effect. Powerful enough to have stayed with me for 50 years. Still vivid in my memory.

I had been at a church service in a town in France and during the ceremony a woman, clearly a refugee, head covered in a blanket and carrying an infant made her way up the aisle through the congregation reaching out her hand for money. It was a direct approach to a captive audience. I remember seeing the celebrant taking her to the side and discreetly giving her some money. She hadn’t finished just yet however and continued her path through the church, having much less success with others in attendance.

Then our eyes met.
The look in those eyes. Defiant dignity.
I felt really uncomfortable as she headed towards me.
My moment of truth…

The Refugee Woman and Child
This morning I met the mother of God
As she held out her hand to say
« Give me some money for my child in rags,
I’ve asked and been turned away »

I gave her some centimes in loose change.
Her eyes questioned, Is that enough?
And the paper money in my wallet is still there
Richly folded up

Now I think only of that young child

That we are nailing to a tree.

« What you give to the least of my brethren

Then that so you give unto Me. »

I think of that experience often, especially these days when countless more displaced people are on the move worldwide. The lack of respect in how they are treated has not improved in those 50 years. If anything it has deteriorated and the dehumanising terminology used to describe refugees does society no credit.

That child, if still with us, would be in middle age by now.

What life have they had? What legacy is theirs?

I hope that somehow, against the odds they made it.

That the mother’s love blanketed their growing up.

I hope they inherited those eyes with defiant dignity.