Deqa Mohamed

No Place To Call Home Part 1 - Poem by Deqa Mohamed

Isn't the world a complex puzzle?
when you cann't even solve the simple scribles man calls law

Like me in class being asked where im from
even though the british accent tumbling from my lips shatters their eardrums

My mothers clenching pain injects ink into the walls of skyscrapers
To push out moaning bones that harbour loud sirens

The sweat shaped diamonds off my mothers back blending in with sheets of white
White coats spin webs made like claws to steal me from her womb

They welcome me into their world with open arms but filtered lenses

I took my first breath in an island I would never call home
I turn heads when im british but roll eyes when im refugee

I share a reflection with masters of disguise to navigate my conclusion

The mysterious laws appear in a remark that gives birth to my confusion

When a teacher clothed in milky rivers of skin and blue ocean bound by orbits, she says to us all
"I am south african"

I gaze around to search for clicking tongues and skeptic eyes
But there is none

Not an elephant could break the silenced questions droping pins in a skull probably made of tin

The intruders of ancient africa planted seeds that raped the golden sand, growing roots in a foriegn soil so they can call it home

I dare say the same applies to me
though my hands are clean of genocide,
I can not let my place of birth decide

home Is a hidden noun that swims in my memories with doors locked from the outside

I come in peace
So cease
Mentioning my color before my name
Building bricks of statistics so that i may hunch down in shame

You pick and prick all the land sun has touched yet you push and prod me when london calls me like moth to her flame

I'm still wondering who decided to color in or maybe wash out the rainbow of peace
I wave my flag of hands but no one seems to notice

Maybe im begining to crawl in the fixed shady blind spots that the camera was not suppose to capture

Language whispers a breeze through my mind in english, the roots of a phantom tongue brands a scar of secrets in my cheeks

Until they are too heavy to carry so I suck them in for weeks

electric boxes order me to blend in, mold myself to be the crown ontop of that pure gold pound

Im told; don't get too comfertable silly
because that fragile face is not a permenant coin in this land

Our black stormy sky can flip your dreams and wither you into a rusty brown worthless penny

After all, you are not "lilly"
the stars glow against her body

But you are the burden of this nation,
The reverse recipe to gold
So put down the smoke of hope you can not afford

I let the reality of a foriegn fog of frog tails recoil within me, wielding thicker swords to cut my own umbilical cord

Topic(s) of this poem: immigrant

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 14, 2017

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