The Immigrant’s Lament: Please Do Not Tell Me

 

Please do not tell me

You did me a favour

When you called me to your country

All those years ago

I have grown old now

The pain not forgotten

And I sing you this song now

Just so that you know

 

I was a child then

And didn’t know better

All I could see

Was my mother in tears

My grandmother lost

I had no-one to turn to

I lived all my days

In perplexity

 

My father rubbed wet cars

My mother cut vynl

My aunty plucked chickens

My uncle dug roads

My cousins drove forklifts

Washed hospital floors

Looked after your aged

And your babies too

 

But we little children

We loved your old classrooms

And found there within

The life of our dreams

Our parents paid school fees

And we learned our lessons

But we did not know

What was waiting in store

 

We thought we were equal

That our merit shone through

But all that we garnered was

Resentment and fear

We finally learned

That we never could change

The fact of our race

Our language or genes

 

And now that I’m old here

My parents are aged

They ready themselves

For their funeral pyre

And how will I tell them

That all they had hoped for

Has vanished in history

To mean nothing at all

 

So please do not tell me

You did me a favour

When you called me to your country

All those years ago

I have grown old now

The pain not forgotten

And I sing you this song now

Just so that you know

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About lalegale

Legal and psychological advocate for freedom of political communication.
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2 Responses to The Immigrant’s Lament: Please Do Not Tell Me

  1. Did you write this? It takes my breath away.

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