Do not give me that look,
As if you knew me not.
Did not our eyes meet,
Peeping round shop corners?

Do not see my hands
And think them full of dirt;
Did not our hands meet,
Scrambling for left-overs?

You see me yawn and stare
Your stomach rumbles too;
Together were we not chased
From our garbage-only food store?

Goose pimples on my skin,
I see you shiver too;
The sack that my blanket is
Was torn to give your share.

I hate to fight you brother,
Provoke me not again;
Is not our enemy one,
Though we know him not?

I hate the names I am called,
The pitiful and scornful stares.
I see the longing in your eyes;
Visit me tonight;
We’ll talk about home; cry, and sleep….

© Alexandra Kukunda 1995 (unpublished)


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