Left For Dead

Left For Dead

by Julie McNeill

 

 

Ms. Alvarez suspected as illegal alien,

Sent back on plane with Band-Aids and

Borrowed wheel-chair as she disabled,

Strapped in, this woman, guess 42,

Deported, no worries, dropped off in

The Philippines where she belongs.

At City Hall crèche they suss something

Shocking when Mrs. Young not pick up

Her son and before long, her two little

Aussie kids wait for their mum in foster

Homes, maybe wondering all the time

When she was coming back.

A public servant could have picked up the

Pieces of an error in judgement that showed

The woman left for dead on the streets of

Manila was Australian citizen and the Mother.

The file was left to lie like dog on hot stinky day

Until another foreign lady with no money, I.D.

Presence of mind or purpose had enough time

Inside for witnesses to gather in one voice

And shout so wrong, but for Mrs. Young,

Nee Alvarez, she not have the ‘luxury’

Of unjust Detention, she got quick

Smart State execution to her land of birth.

Her siblings say she never show up,

‘We didn’t know she here, where she go?

No-body told us in these years till now.’

No person in this world wants to imagine

What befell Vivian all that time ago

When the forces of Australian government

Policy has no compassion or fair-go

For the mentally unwell, so expedient are

They to hide away and leave for dead,

Before the Light could shine on their faces,

Because they can’t find a place for them

In this Nation’s heart.

 

FOR THE PUBLIC RECORD

I Hearby announce that I, Julie McNeill(nee Higgins), emigrated on family passport. Mum came on her second married name of he who must not be named! It was Friday 13th Jan.1978. Hope that’s not a bad omen, because I always saw it as a blessing. I became an Australian Citizen with husband Roy in 1985.

At the moment I feel safe and secure. However I get this feeling that there are forces out to get people like me.

If I do become become mentally ill due to Bi-Polar disorder my memory won’t serve me well. It’s likely I won’t know what’s real and what’s not. I may even call myself Alice and got here by jumping off the boat and down a big hole…..Lady Macbeth is also a possibility, and I would be well and truly stuffed because I don’t know their other names, but that doesn’t mean I’m an illegal!

Please, PLEASE, do not put me on a plane back to Birmingham just because I’ve still got an accent. There are millions of people there. I can’t cope with crowds. I wouldn’t know where to go or how to get there.

Thankyou

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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