ROHINGYA: The stateless people


Where we are is where the ocean throws,
How long has it been? Not a soul knows,
Guilty not of any such crime,
Yet here we are, riding the waves to pass the time,

Provisions dwindled like ocean foam,
As the waves caved in and sealed our tombs,
Somewhere to go, somewhere to flee,
But they all can’t stand the sight of me,

Unwanted and forgotten wherever we go,
Waves climbing as spirits sink ever so low,
It wasn’t long before they’d drowned all hopes,
And thoughts of home became no more than old, torn ropes,

What if we returned? How much better would we fare?
Would we even barely keep our heads in the air?
It wasn’t long after before our blood-curdling screams,
Slowly simmered down into forgotten, distant dreams,

Now is only the hunger that I feel no more,
And the scalding sun that no longer sores,
The stench of urine that stopped bothering me,
And the cries of children that have become normality,

What use is it to scream or to weep or to feel,
If the world doesn’t bother to perceive our pain as real,
Because our floating struggle is anything but new,
But one can only ask,
What if they knew?

~Azzam Anwar
London (16/05/15)

Photo courtesy of CNN


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