Precariat: inspired by the French word Précarité meaning precarious, or for the poetically inclined meaning ‘those who walk on shifting sands’.
You walk on pavements once secure,
that disintegrate beneath your feet like sand
strewn by the wind to new and unfamiliar places.
With legs that can’t carry your weight any longer
Clamber onto dinghy, pray the salt water doesn’t drown you
Land onto shore bed, feel the beating of your heart match
The pulse of waves as the slap against the coast. Come to a
Welcome of the sloshing slap of spit against your cheek:
The devils kiss.
Hear the guttural cry through gnashing of barbed wire teeth:
‘go home’ and the dirty word that trails behind,
ceaselessly stinking like dog shit ‘immigrants’
You know you don’t belong here
But you can’t go back to the bombs.
Can’t go back to the pavements
that slip like sand through fingers.
read Precariat x2 here