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