asylum by Thahitun Mariam

Come Unto These Yellow Sands, Richard Dadd

97 was the year we left the desh
walked miles and miles
with all our belongings on our shoulders
crossed oceans
to see a bright light in the distance—
the land of the free
we were exuberant at first,
a place to plant our feet and grow roots
but we realized nor was the land free or the people
ruthlessly snatched from the true owners,
the land became free under a false pretense
we too were deceived
we stayed until we were weighed down
by the unbearable, heavy chains
on our minds and bodies
freedom came with a high cost
and only those who take refuge in the land of the free
can tell you how much
it may be worth it
if you’re rolling the dice and willing to go all in
sell anything you’ve ever believed,
in order to be free

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