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Sirad Jul 2020
I imagine you at my age
Younger, stronger and ambitious
You literally cracked your spine
Once healed, cracked again by soil foreign  
That bore you no fruit
But fruit were born from the womb
Of the love of your life

I imagine you had it all
But poverty was placed between your eyes
Tried to go back home
Catch the dream you once had
Build a home your children could inherit
But all they wanted, was to snuggle in your strength
Listen to a strong heartbeat
Reading them nursery rhymes

Tears begin to flood my vision
When I realise, your life
Is mirror to my own
I inherited recycled dreams and hope
From a land that bore me no fruit
When all I wanted, was to inherit extra time with you
Snuggle in your strength
And listen to lullabies
Kelsey Banerjee Jul 2020
if I stay, I miss the BBQ,
if I leave, I miss the mangoes.
There is no hope for
those of us trapped
between two worlds.
Kelsey Banerjee Jul 2020
We slump,
cracks in the cumin seed siding
outside the police station,
stale air suffocates the sun
as it sinks below
a creek and a trash heap

visa papers
clutched like the cloak of God,
a 100 rupee note crumbled in your jean pocket -
just in case.
is it a crime to expect the worst
in spite of order?

blazing dry heat smothers our lungs,
we resemble
shrunken palm leaves held only
by the stone above us.
Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
no one tells you
being an immigrant
is being a stallion
front hooves tied knotted
course rope
chaffing at your ankles
holed up in a greener pasture
gnawing at tender leaves
while watching
acres away
those you love
wild and free, wind
whistling against their cheeks,
a throbbing ache to be with them
but knowing you cannot.
Naveen Kumar May 2020
India is about to war
on Pakistan.
I'm busy getting my
degree.
Climate is burning
the ice.
New parasites are evolving
in our lungs.
Immigration is devastating
employment.
But people are busy
paying their bills.
Spaceships are surrounding us.
Government is announcing
a new refugee scheme.
ISRO is launching
forty satellites.
But kids are busy
practising their parents' signature.
Young is busy
risking life to buy marijuana.
Youth is busy
begging for jobs.
Adults are busy
spying kids' notebooks.
The world has enough problems
already
to make something new.
It is like adding
a new task in the to-do list
in the rush hours.
Bees becoming extinct.
Well-
let me get my degree first.
My home is now silent, and I have taken to those haunting waves
To set forth upon new land, and to find you, the woman of maebh.*

We come from different worlds, locked together in constant motion,
But I'm determined to embrace you, even from across the western ocean.

I'll sail across the world for you, even if the journey sends me to Hell.
It merely took one glance and I was immediately under your spell.

Like a siren's call, you pulled me in from a world away.
To arrive at you safely, I can only hope and pray.

And someday soon, when this coffin ship meets the shore
Hand in hand, together, in this new life, we will explore.

Day after day of this journey, we long for our first embrace,
But until then, I will be guided by your enchanting grace.
*(may-v) Gaelic word for someone who is alluring.
A man with secrets known only to him and God,
he walks along the machair with pride.

He's unbothered by the ghosts of the waves and water
because his destiny lies on the shore's other side.

A brave and bold young man with dreams of a better life,
he's now begun to put this goal in motion.

One more drink at the Rosie Tavern before he goes
to say goodbye to the friends and men he knew so dear

Or maybe one more walk around the neighborhood
to say farewell to the family he held so near.

Come aboard the ship, ye brave and bold young Robert,
for there's a fortune to be made across that western ocean.

You'll be leaving behind memories of that coal burnt town,
but pay no mind to the darkness that'll be falling.

When songs of the old country bring tears to your eyes
think only of your strength; your legacy is calling.

Ye brave and bold Robert, you'll have all the fortunes you can see
Ye brave and bold Robert, you'll break the shackles of poverty.
For my grandfather.
Jack Bronson Mar 2020
Cages
They say they’re not cages
But they’re cages
People wrapped in shiny blankets
They look like they’re getting ready to get cooked
Anything but
It’s **** cold in there
No sleep
Only cold and concrete
Shivering so much I wouldn’t be surprised if their teeth shot out of their mouth

These lives
These stories
These people treated like dogs

Separated at the border
A child cries
“Mama, mama!”
But the machine can’t hear you
The industrial capital neo liberal machine
It can’t hear you
It says to you, “you’re not human, little thing”

But I can hear this child
I can feel in body the wrongs being done to it
I just don’t understand it
But I want to

I want to understand how people can separate a child from its Father
Brother
Sister
mother
Don’t you know we’re humans?
Don’t you know we hurt
We cry
We laugh
We love
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
The sound of children suffering from some far off shore in my ear

The tears of first light shed a certain sadness as I listen for a sparse hope

But all that transmits is an echo of fear...
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