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Nigel Obiya
Poems
Mar 2012
Internally Displaced Point of view.
I need no help
I need someone to rely on
My situation is one I wish they would keep an eye on
I need no wealth, just a mattress I could lie on
This cold floor makes my bones quake
Do I deserve this? Did I sin or make some colossal mistake...
That I'm being punished for?
Is that why I feel so malnourished and sore?
They look at me with pity while taking a tour
Of our camp... my 'home'
They will return and say they did something noble today and spent time with 'the poor'
I'm not poor, I am my father's son
And if they took the time to listen, they would realize that I stand proud for something my father has done
Or 'did'
He saved my siblings and I you see, held the door shut as we ran away through the back
As attackers tried to break in
My father is dead, but his legacy has stuck
With us... my brothers and I
And if I fold and break now I know my younger brothers will die
So I arch my back and eye the government minister looking right at me
Hoping he sees my plight
But it seems lost to him like a shadow in the night
His expression remains as dry as the inside of my mouth
He doesn't need to pay attention to me now, there are no cameras about.
Written by
Nigel Obiya
Mombasa, Kenya
(Mombasa, Kenya)
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