Strange Immigrants

I am a strange citizen
lost in a world indifferent
to strangers and immigrants
but consenting only to labour
and toil and serving the hosts

I am struck down by a lull of fear
made suspicious and doubtful
earning wages behind closed fences
made strange into an unfamiliar shape

My presence is no more than a mistake
where my flesh and sweat are insufficient
to break that strangeness that binds us
Against which there is no respite

But I bear no ills in this imagining
or relinquish myself under fear
or wilt under the nightsky
amongst the fire and bullets

Yet every morning and every night
I bear the wrath of circumstance
of the night stars and cold winds
holding on to my strangeness
Where Happiness, I patiently wait


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