I am of fighting age

though all I’ve ever done is run

 

They put me in this cushioned cage

and tarred me with what others done

 

I’m the apple of my father’s eye

though here I’m stranger fruit

 

They say that we should leave or die

although they say their Police don’t shoot

 

I am a child alone and scared

though women here have sheltered me

 

They say it’s not for them to care

if all my family died at Sea

 

I am a father bereft of all

though none believe my wretched tongue

 

They say my prayer is Jihad’s call

though I care not for what they have done

 

I am a human frail and lost

marooned among a hail of hate

 

They say my life is worth no cost

As I beg for mercy at their gate

 

I am dependent upon their gift

to treat me as they will

 

That by some grace their hearts they’ll lift

that all our hate should calm and still…