This
was a hot journey
A
flaming June in Hackney
Trying
to keep cool
In
the sweat-dripping sun
We
were trying to keep cool
In
the crush of a thousand refugees
That
became two
And
became three
And
ended up as five
Five
thousand refugees:
Alevi
Kurds from Turkey
The
wrong religion
The
wrong race
In
the wrong country
Cramped
onto the floors of our churches
Making
us bedfellows
With
Turkish Marxists
And
divorcing us
From
British officialdom
Getting
cold feet
In
a flaming June
I
wavered. I was lukewarm
I
was reserved English
Until
A
hot blooded Kurd
Set
fire to himself,
Rather
than return
To
a cold-blooded reception,
And
died.