The Refugee
In a faraway land I call home
ponder I bolstering my dome
ordered the queue to roam
for rations meal make not fit
and long hours the wait beat
for manna babes feed incomplete
and bread my tongue browses neat
at night when I enter my tent
ask God the rain delay
that I can sleep on mat dry
as 'twas when I's home.
God heard me not the day before
came rains and my mat soaked
thus for sun prayed my mat to dry
that I can sleep as if 'twas home
my new neighbours scath me
think their meal I ursurp
think I on Arabian carpet fly
beats me up, says: "Go home!"
methinks I'd better go home
away from the land I call home
roll calls blast everyday loud
my piss, my ass they also check
disflowered me in the name of aid
where I's forced to run's not home
but where my head's is my home
even in this land I call home.