Eden

I weaved a nest

Out of the things they threw away

And I made a home for my children to say

He created an earth so large

So great

Hoping one day

The Gods will appreciate

The waste they threw a way

The Garden of Eden was no place to stay

Adam

I know your pain

I, too, had to do the same

To free myself and children alike

To start fresh

A new life

I too had to be

Immigrant

But free

Advertisements

Imagine| Short Poem

 

I know this is a Black and White battle

And Brown is not in between

Maybe it is a color that your lens has not seen

But imagine for a moment or two

That it was you

Imagine being born to such a bad circumstance

That being caught in a boarder provides a better chance

Have you earned that ground you call home?

Or were you, just like them, just born?

Differences| Short Poem

The difference between you and me

Boils down to geography

I was born somewhere far beyond your sea

And so you see me differently

The difference between a citizen and a refugee

Is just

Another disaster of this world I see

Miles define who we are and who we can be

If you weren’t born where you were

Who would you be?

Where My Roots Disappear

Here lies a dream

In papers drowned by ink

Things,  even if you steel, you can never take away from me

Land I forget,  before I remember

Places where I used to belong

Earth that smelled much like I

There I lay

And awake I see

There can be another me

Immigrant in this earth but free

.

.

(Was turning dark so I had to turn around)

Where is Home?

Wars forced us to leave many houses behind

So home was a suit case, then a hotel, then peace of mind

I wander to meet trees that don’t know my name

I try to start a conversation, but people think I’m insane

My roots were dislocated and sometimes I feel suffocated

Then I remember,

Home was never far behind

Home is a place here in my mind

The Wide Eyed Girl

 

The wide eyes blinked

It was over

The war has engulfed the pond, the garden, and the moon

It wasn’t her choice

She smiled

Too young to worry, too old to cry

The wide eyes stared at a green leaf, among the ruins

The birds might come back

She poured what’s left of her water on what’s left of a tree

The apples will grow!

(A little darker than I usually write. That is because it was inspired by my life experience…)

Boxes

Take me out of this box you made for me!

“You don’t look like a terrorist” she says to me.

As I take a sip of my drink, I smile, for she thought she complimented me.

I get lost in the ignorance… or maybe it’s innocence that puts me in such a box.

Should I change my name? Maybe dye my hair blond just so you can relate to me?