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The translated Telugu version: ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ..

This poem appeared originally in The Saaranga Magazine HERE. 

–

It’s not too unthinkable,
sipping licorice tea in my cardigan,
And day dreaming of a life of civil liberties.

Out of the window,
I see stars coming out from under your sky,
But on ground, I don’t see the tears on your muddy faces.

I’ve only seen your life
through images in those makeshift towns,
Tell me, why is that the rain makes you cry harder?

With an inexhaustible supply of water,
I wash my roses in the sink watching for thorns,
While you will hedge those fences that’ll rip into your flesh.

My kids have all grown,
abandoning these slides in the backyard,
But do you see dusty carcasses of merry-go-rounds left behind midplay?

Politics aside,
I’m grateful I’m here,
Yet terribly guilty that you are still there.

Where you must be hunting
for bread for your family while fleeing homes for tents,
I am frivolous enough to dip the artisan chip into a bowl of guacamole.

Tonight, I’ll take pills to catch a wink,
while you find yourself undead,
After a night of rockets marching on your ear drums.

–

@renaeffendiphoto: Refugees huddled in the fields of Idomeni a small Greek town

–

Tomorrow,
I might go fishing in the waters
That will swallow you in the midnight storm as you cross the seas.

While you’ve been busy
walking to the end of the earth for a roof,
My time has been excessively occupied too.

“Where you headed?”
you might ask,
But until I fall off this life’s treadmill, I can’t stop to answer.

Sometimes, when I’ve felt desolately lonely,
I’ve paused to look for God,
to see if I can be loud enough across oceans for you to hear my love.

Just like you,
I worry about the plight of my children,
However, mostly behind their roaring new wheels.

When society tries to inspire me
to fight for your rights,
I silence its voice by claiming, “Charity begins at home”.

You might be dying to live in peace,
but I can offer my love,
Only just as much as I have for the stranger on the street.

So, let me dampen your spirit
that we will be friends,
When you call on me, I might act like I’ve never fought for your cause.

Because,
I am one and all thousands of you,
Are no one to me.

Because,
I am one and all thousands of you,
Are no one to me.

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Poetry

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