October 2025
This poem tells the story of a young Eritrean woman, who, because she was pregnant, I accompanied to an appointment with a social worker and health visitor. During the course of the appointment she described her journey here, as she fled compulsory and indefinite conscription imposed on all young people by the military regime in her country.
(For more facts and recent development see https://www.amnesty.org/en/location/africa/east-africa-the-horn-and-great-lakes/eritrea/report-eritrea/)
Getting Here
The social worker asks
How did you get here?
From Italy she says.
She looks around the room,
stands to remove her shawl
from where it covers her hair.
I am flying she says,
lifting her arms like wings.
Before that?
From Eritrea?
Yes.
I walk, she says, three days.
Alone?
with people, we walk
to where?
Egypt, the sea.
And then?
in boat.
Silence
Not good, too many peoples.
To?
Italy.
And then?
they bringing me here. Now I am
here two years.
And now you are safe,
says the social worker.
She stands to replace her shawl
lifting her arms like wings.