Rigged Humanitarianism Poem by Mohammed Arshad Amin

I believe, I am the fragile one
the broken body, the empty bowl
and the story that needs saving.

They say I am protected
under their care as long as I stay
inside the lines, they draw for me.

they give me rations and call it kindness
they give me fences and call it safety
they take my voice and call it policy.

when I depend on them, I am "vulnerable."
when I try to live, to work and to feed myself
I become "illegal."

I ask myself quietly
am I the threat or is the law
afraid of my survival?

They build this cage and name it compassion.
But when I walk beyond it, they call me defiant.

Now I see clearly, it is not me
who is weak.
It is the system, dressed in pity
built on fear that cannot bear a human
who refuses to stay broken.

— Mohammed Arshad Amin