"How do you label nationalities on worn out clothes?"

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They left their homes,

shadows, skin and soul.

All they carried on

their shoulders were

pile of clothes.

How do you label 


on worn out clothes?

They buried their heart,

love, memories and identity


they jumped over

the shiny, sharp fences

which you stretched.

their naked feet 

were bleeding.

All they could tie

on their forehead


lines of fear,  

insecurities, helplessness 

and hopelessness.

How do you read


written in their fearful eyes,

bleeding wounds and 

air full of wails?

They washed their pride,

promises to families, happiness 

in the waves of hatred.

All they could fetch

in the name family,

were sorrows, pain, tears,

and remains of those 

broken promises.

How do you identify

them as threats 

to humanity?

How do you

assume those handful

of humans,

who have lost everything

but their lives,

can pollute your air,

or poison your soul?

I see your weak trust 

on your shoulders

and their strength 

in their misery.

Who is eating whose strength?

White light of sun

is swallowing the night

or the darkness escaped by

drilling a hole in 

the day’s stomach?