Tag Archive: Lament

Dancing with The Middle Kingdom

So the dance continues, but no one rejoices. And no one really believes the detainees “have completed their studies, found stable employment with the help of the government and have improved their quality of life and live a happy life.” (The Guardian)

So instead we shall lament for and with the Uighurs. #Advent

Dancing With The Middle Kingdom

New neighbours were sent to be with us. We 
know they can’t stand us.

Throw your doppas down they told us. Your 
songs are forbidden they told us.

Contempt, it rises like a lunar compass
shackling us both in a silk road conquest.

Home comforts have been taken from us. Our 
children are lost so utterly lost to us. 

Who surveils freedom’s death for us? Who 
hears the child’s cry far from us?

With pork dumplings they torment us. With 
baijiu they seek a ruckus.

Divine irony may make them like us. Swine
flu may make spare ribs as rare as mercy for us.

Empire building requires faces barbarous. So 
according to their hearts they see us.

We are nothing except what they want from us. They 
seek a solution for us, a solution for

Lament for Refuge

You have searched me, LORD and you know me.

My life of aspiration
Was bought in sweat and deception
For my ancestors came from the wrong nation
And were treated with contempt and degradation.

You created my inmost being and knit me together in my mother’s womb.

In every space I have tried not to die
’till a friend said, “Go West young man,
They love the truth.” So I have arrived to find
The truth is not enough — they would rather hear a lie.

Search me, God, and know my heart, test me and know my anxious thoughts.

Peace eludes me.
I don’t have a way.
Truth enslaves me.
I don’t want to hide.

See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

I love life.

After Noon Prayers

 

 

Most days my sight
avoids the intersection
of creation and sorrow.

 

Others are standing there.
I see them; they are caught mid-step
by the weight of loss.

 

Grieving in Mogadishu;
running as Rohingya;
neighbours on the other side of my heart.

 

Oh, that I could run.
Together we could kneel
before One who knows the hours.

 

We would cry
for mercy.