Best Served With: 80s by Berhana
You think my destination is a choice?
That I transverse this roughness because I am able?
You think I’d come all the way here just for this noise?
To be saddled and spanked like a horse in a stable?
Unbelievable. You are fucking unbelievable.
I had a home.
Its warm branches cradled my face like a sunset breeze,
Rooted in culture’s succulent embrace; I’d grown,
Covered by family, friends, lovers, tradition, ‘twas bliss,
Hope chased happiness in the front yard,
While Love stood tall in the back.
Yes. I had a nurturing, caring, loving home.
And I was free.
And then it all vanished in broad daylight,
Blasted to bits by propaganda that terrorists sought,
My relatives obliterated before they could think a thought,
Worse still these eyes could not witness so sorry a sight.
That selfsame fate left me no time to unwind,
So, with an infant in hand and grief in mind,
I packed my emotions as they hurt me so,
And crossed the Atlantic as I had nowhere else to go.
So here I am laid bare in front of you,
With a bleak past and an unfortunate present,
But it seems my fortune is bent,
Delivered to your mercy though suffering I relent,
Whether your country becomes my new home,
Or I and my child die; lost in place, stuck in time,
Depends wholly on your thoughts and talk
I hear Fortune’s laughter reveling its best work;
My whole life has been a cruel joke,
And it seems this point—right now– is the punchline.