Παρασκευή 11 Νοεμβρίου 2016

11/11/2016

They don’t want me.
They look at me from their raised, uneven rocks
I’m drowning
It’s not the water, no.
Their judgement, cold and unforgiving, is immobile 
Their concept of land ownership goes back only a few generations
It opposes the constant yet unstable movement of tectonic plates under their very own feet
They say that I’m dirty, full of disease
They don’t even look at me in the eyes
What are they so afraid of?
Their invasion was set with intention of dominance and prosperity
They drew thick, uneven lines behind them and
Set threats of death upon trespass.
If they could draw borders on the seas’ end, trust me
They would.
I am not human to them,
I am merely a mass of blood, bones, nerves and organs
Foreign
A malignancy, a case of severe misfortune
Coming to their aid for survival,
Just like when they came to mine
Or
Did they?
















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