Ode To Alan Henning Poem by Ajit Das

When caught, you were not wearing any fatigues,
nor working as a spy for covert information
on troop movements of the enemies
spearheaded by their murderous groups,
nor as a journalist covering for news outlets.
No, you were not any one of them.

You were a simple cab driver in your native land,
a man with humanity in your heart;
you went over the sea and desert to help those
who fleeing bloodshed in their homeland
were forced to live in refugee camps.
But it was a crime and you paid for it with your life.

Millions huddled in tents and camps
face harsh elements of the advancing winter.
Relief aid flowing from across the planet
may succour them with food, medicine, blankets.
But, as the cruelty of their brethren hunts them,
they will long cherish your name in their heart.

* Alan Henning, a cab driver of Manchester