A refugee's arrival in the time of Corona

It's a relief to see you here,
You remind me that the last time we met it was cold,
that I poured you coffee and gave you extra biscuits.
I barely recognise you,
Is it the haircut, or the fact you've finally slept?

Nights later you can no longer sleep.
Yes, the hotel bed is plump and more comfy than your tent,
Yes, your stomach is full.
But you feel empty you say, so very alone,
And the room is shrinking, and it's crammed with your thoughts.

The next week you tell me the soldiers have returned,
Flashbacks of guns, branches in your face, the purr of motorcycle engines.
They are in your room you say,
They have followed you here after all.

And then you tell me your story, and I want to scream for you,
for the childhood lost, for the organs ripped, for the innocence stolen,
But instead I talk to you of plans,
and dreams, and hope,
I tell you - you are not alone

You ask me why everyone here is not as kind,
so I point to politicians, to front pages, and the Comments section,'But I don't want anything' you say, 'just a peaceful life,'
I nod, and I so want to hold your hand,
but I can't even do that today.