I lied
Wanted to and did
Lie!
I took it as small;
A white lie!
Did pity overtake?
Was I kind?
Wanted to be confirmed
Saw his work; not-so-well
But told him: "Excellent! "
He is a Syrian
His face is kind of book
Kipling's:
"The Man Who Would Be King"
In writings of Afghan
Nothing but damnation and insult
Filled with pain and alarm:
"His success is living as mule! "
Working days, working nights
And at night in dark barn…
Maybe and hopefully
Somewhere in future
His kids will reach; pick up…
But will they have the chance
To know their DNA?
I shout loud at myself:
"Ignore that
Can't you see, First Nations? ! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem