Singing a Song of Sunset
Staring out the bared window
My heart sinks with the setting sun
I rest my weary head on a pillow
The nightmare has already begun
My whole being is already being undone
My language
Stripped from me
My traditions
Stripped from me
My beliefs
Stripped from me
My culture
Stripped from me
In my dreams I wander down a lonely street
I can talk and dance and sing freely
‘For the soul is a wanderer with many hands and feet’
Who am I really?
Me, ideally
My home
Stripped from me
My family
Stripped from me
My history
Stripped from me
My rights
Stripped from me
The birds outside sing
I wish that I could join them in their song
Everything is broken, my voice and my wings
Singing is wrong
I don’t know where I belong
My heritage
Gone with the setting sun