It's Not My Fault Poem by Hussein Kassim

As the hot wind blew, and the child’s golden coiffure looked dry
But all my money was kaput, and the hot sun wouldn't let me cry
Should I have left the child to find his way back home?
Because deep in the desert is what they call home.
I don’t know how I got here, maybe I had been deported in my dreams
The child hadn't spoken; all there was were silent screams

I shouldn't have helped a stranger
I couldn't even take care of my own self
All that was left for me were torn shoes I found on my feet
And now a child in my arms, I don’t know how he got there
It’s not my fault that I am here; someday I’ll get to a better place
And find a home by God’s grace.