Ex-communication (©2013 John T. Windle)
She was born with a clean slate;
umbilical miracle delivered in grace,
preparedly groomed in a system,
felt safe and that she came from a superior place.
Plucked from the desert in a bomb raid.
Palmless trees.
Now surrounded by red brick
and different towers
where other kids rarely fall to their knees.
Temperatures have fallen.
Adults have cold sweats
from the stress in the streets.
The kids are now herded,
labelled, spat on, pinballs, dodging disgrace.
Knitted brows are stitched to adolescents
save for prayer time.
Suffering the pain of integration
is much harder when you’re
on the front line.
Doesn’t have the myriad of options
of female children in her neighbourhood.
While under the parental umbrella,
a man may be selected it is understood.
She’s seen the tears of other girls
but some are happy.
Whether or whether not
ever to enter in
the socio-cultural lottery?
Second-generation cousins;
mismatches of marriages,
factions and fights.
Melting pots, churches, mosques or mosaics?
Where does she fit in the core democratic design?
Out in the road is not a safe place
seasonally.
Dreaming of migrating to another land
where everyone understands
the good in she.
Throwing darts at a world map,
Finding reasons of conflicts and wars without ends.
Reflecting on the 3 ‘R’s,
a triptych of; Resources, Religion and Revenge.
When will my nightmare be over?
I’m nearly grown.
I dream of finding my future
by myself but I don’t want to be disowned…
She was born with a clean slate;
umbilical miracle delivered in grace,
preparedly groomed in a system,
felt safe and that she came from a superior place.
Plucked from the desert in a bomb raid.
Palmless trees.
Now surrounded by red brick
and different towers
where other kids rarely fall to their knees.
Temperatures have fallen.
Adults have cold sweats
from the stress in the streets.
The kids are now herded,
labelled, spat on, pinballs, dodging disgrace.
Knitted brows are stitched to adolescents
save for prayer time.
Suffering the pain of integration
is much harder when you’re
on the front line.
Doesn’t have the myriad of options
of female children in her neighbourhood.
While under the parental umbrella,
a man may be selected it is understood.
She’s seen the tears of other girls
but some are happy.
Whether or whether not
ever to enter in
the socio-cultural lottery?
Second-generation cousins;
mismatches of marriages,
factions and fights.
Melting pots, churches, mosques or mosaics?
Where does she fit in the core democratic design?
Out in the road is not a safe place
seasonally.
Dreaming of migrating to another land
where everyone understands
the good in she.
Throwing darts at a world map,
Finding reasons of conflicts and wars without ends.
Reflecting on the 3 ‘R’s,
a triptych of; Resources, Religion and Revenge.
When will my nightmare be over?
I’m nearly grown.
I dream of finding my future
by myself but I don’t want to be disowned…
