1.
Before I came here
My land belonged to others
Who worked it with love.
Before they came here
Their land belonged to others
Who worked it with love.
Before my parents left their homeland
They lived in their own home
That they built with love.
Before you left your homeland
You lived in your own home
That you built with love.
Let's deny history. Imagine
We were not here before you
And you were not here before us.
Instead of playing catch
We'll play with words.
I live in a home that was built for others.
The people who lived in my home
Left to live in a home
That was built for others.
You live in a home that was built for others
The people who lived in your home
Left to live in a home
That was built for others.
2.
The only home that was built for me
Is settled now by people
Who speak my parent's language
My own mother's tongue
That I don't understand.
On central city streets
Of Paris, Madrid or Rome
I walk and recognize
The sign of my people
And hush.
3.
I take the sky
And pull it over my head
To have a home
But where do my feet go.
Poetry is indeed a great medium for reflection of thoughts and you have aptly described what's the feeling of being left alone. stigmatized by isolation and estrangement. Bigotry is not our problem but problem of all mankind. As two distinct nations, Jews and Muslims clashed have widened the breach of mistrust between the two. I really feel it in your lines. But don't give your heart away to hatred. It consumes even the innocent. Shalom. I love your poem :) ...........10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Pretty poem, thanks for sharing. Keep Up!