Walking on Moving Sands

I was just like you. 
Respected and loved by many. 
A lovely home, a lovelier family. 
Many a joy as we sat around 
the dinner table every night together
to have another great meal
and to laugh heartily watching the late late show.
 
I was just like you. 
I worked on excel sheets,
Slogged my way till the clock showed 1pm,
rushed to stand in queue to buy my lunch,
to reserve a small table for my partner and I
So that we could enjoy our lunch in peace
in the middle of our busy day.   
 
I was just like you.
I work at the biggest restaurant in the city,
a chef who loves to paint too.
People came from all over 
to eat and enjoy the food I cooked.
There was never a day when a 
guest left disappointed or hungry. 
 
I was just like you.
I studied at the best high school in town
When the evening bell rang, 
I hurried to the studio, 
sat on the chair with a smile on my face
as I happily moved my fingers 
over the keys of the piano. 
 
I was just like you.
Was.
Now, I have nothing.
I fled. Fled from the terror,
the monsters, the blood. 
Crossed the currents of the seas, 
without food and water. 
While that little boy died on the shore,
I don’t know if I should be alive
to feel nothing though I survived. 
 
I was just like you.
I came here, walking on moving sands, searching for a home.
To move on, to find some meaning, to find some love. 
But you said ‘No’. 
You shut the door. You speak of building a wall too.
I see fear in your eyes, or is it insecurity?
 
I am a Precariat. I am a refugee. 
All I have now is my heart. But where is yours?
After I lost everything, I still have my heart.
But where is yours?
 fence
Image credit: Prashant Bionic R., Bric -a-Brac Creations
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4 thoughts on “Walking on Moving Sands

  1. What a beautiful post it is.. It is very sad to see the beautiful lives of refugees turns chaotic.. I wish lots of people read this and understand their lives.. And yes,im excited to read more of your posts.. 🙂

    Like

    1. Thank you so much, Aishuwerya. It is indeed sad to see. One of the ways We can make the people on the other side listen to the perspective is by writing.
      And yes, I will write more.

      Like

  2. My dear poet,
    I read your lines, as usual, with much enthusiasm and indulgence. The theme goes well the modern political heartless assault and attack on the poor people, especially on the refugees. I am reminded of the Sri Lankan refugees who fled for their lives toiling and tossing on the cold sea waters. At present one all powerful mighty leader talks of building a Wall for miles and miles!!!
    It is in a very simple diction and sounds very well like a casual conversation that arises from the core and bottom of a heart filled with real love for the people in distress.
    I thank you and am looking forward to read more.

    Like

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