Bhasa
A name is made up by
Journalist, reporter
To hide a Yazidi
Now she has safety
No more a sex-slave
In hands of the ISIS!
Give me job; take me out
Am tired of reading, hearing
Take me out and use me as donkey
A mule or camel, an engine, a machine!
Can no more take this air
Lungs are sealed in the chest
My throat is filled of sniff-tear!
This life is brutal
Also is full of lies
How much and how often?
For how long must cry?
Some abuse their power
Some cry rain-shower
For buying sympathy
Story is made up!
I read of the Mosul
Iraqis and ISIS
Yazidis and the rapes
Buy woman and or sell!
I read books on past of Canada
The pre-invasion and World-Wars
British fighting with Acadia
New one after turned Federal
Fear more than wisdom and or love
Afraid of USA; London has lost power!
I read of actions of Japanese in China
Now fear in the horn, from North Korea
Stop me of reading and learning; give me job!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem