In the country that does not welcome me,
They reckon my colour, my religion, my accent, will take all they hold dear.
“Go back to your country”- they say.
“Go back to where you belong!” - they shout.
As if I really prefer to be here, away from all I knew and loved,
Away from where I belong.
As if I had the choice the fear and misery I lived under to prolong.
Whose land is this anyway, may I ask?
To whom does this land belong?
For I am not less than those that came before,
Those who here once arrived in no better circumstances than mine,
Crossing the similar valleys and seas that I just did.
Leaving all that they were behind,
Hoping that a glimmer of a better future they would find.
“Look at your mirror,” I say.
Look carefully for what you will see,
It will not be your image - rather you will see me.
For I am your parent, your grandparent, your forefather from many generations past.
You are a descendent, a beneficiary,
Of the once unwelcomed ones,
That choose to not be deterred,
From pursuing the right to live with dignity
That like me, they felt it was theirs.
© Fabio Nehme
