Children Of Convicts: Unseen And Unheard

“Transportation” read my mother’s sentence

From the British Isles to Australia

The Era of Conviction did commence.

For from here we lost our independence

And kissed away all regalia

 

I bid home goodbye whilst in womb

Unborn yet not absent

The theft of sixtypence- our doom

Still plagues us with gloom

Unforgiving, the disparaging dissent

 

Faceless, silent.

Traceless, without a hint.

 

Two scores have passed since then

Angels carried my mother away

From me, I was barely seven.

Fending for myself when

Education was the only way

 

With our coarse clothes

And torn shoes

Each dawn we tucked away our woes

To earn morsels, which the Oz throws

With dirt, infuse

 

Children of convicts

We play the game of shadows

Surviving the pain the world inflicts

Our voices stifled, amidst conflicts.

Our lives filled with darkness, enclose.

 

Faceless, silent.

 

Traceless, without a hint.