an open letter to new or old refugees


if they insult you in your own language,
brothers and sisters,
if they run you out of your fields
and make you refugees;
they may make faces at your culture,
forgetting that you are human,yes
they may encourage
fires of human bodies.

i beg you to exist with dignity
and patience. your faith will
cover you like a blanket,
shouldn't you be lullabied with prayers for peace,
not war hymns.
will we be free of violent ends?

in winter,real ones sit in the
streets and are spit on.
some smile,that's the way of peace.
holy books hold us up,like we are
part of each other,holy that way.

i make war in myself
when i believe that i am
any different
from olive farmers,new or
old refugees,soliders with
conscience,without
conscience,those who feed
on opportunity and kill the
human spirit.
i make war in myself
when i make a decision
that says,
'i give up on my brother,
my sister.'


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