Arts

Ice

A poem by Nola Gregory, Geraldton, Western Australia.

On the corner of a street
A little boy stands
All dishevelled and dirty
Holding out his hands

Tired and so hungry
He has no choice
He’s taken to begging
Do you hear his small voice?

He feels so much safer
When he’s not at home
He’s wandering the streets
All night he will roam

It’s not what he wants
It’s just how it is
He’s making a living
And it’s no fault of his

His Mother and Father
Are back at home
Drugged up to the eyeballs
While he’s all alone

They don’t really care
And it’s a bloody shame
Getting their next fix
Is the name of their game

Families ripped apart
All drugged up on ice
A shadow of themselves
Like the addiction bite

Wake up please
And look at yourself
Your children need you
In good shape and health

Don’t let them suffer
Because of your drugs
They need your love

And some warm little hugs
Please wake up 
And look at your life
You children they need YOU
Not your drug addicted high

Nola wrote the poem after she saw the problems the drug ice inflicts all over the world, and the effect it has on children, families and entire communities. “It breaks your heart to see what this drug has done to my beautiful Aboriginal people here in Western Australia,” she writes.

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Aboriginal culture - Arts - Ice, retrieved 29 March 2017