Refuge
 
The maps show you where you cannot go.
You google routes and roads but have no key
to unlock borders, gates, or miles of sea,
only essential documents you must show
with boxes ticked and photos double signed -
your solemn face snapped in a booth,
the documents you’ve printed out as proof
of who you are. You wait in line.
 
You saw your city blasted into dust.
You lost it all and don’t know who to trust.
And now you stand before a border guard
who’s stern, impassive, gazes at you hard 
to verify, but he does not see you.
Will you be welcome? Who knows. He waves you through.