Who can sit beside my mother
And make her smile;
Not with the reluctant unease
She learnt in England,
From the men and women
Who regarded her with quiet suspicion;
But the hearty open mouthed grin of her homeland
That always said:
“welcome, welcome,
I recognize in you something of myself,
Your language falls at home in my ears
And your face could have belonged to a child I never had,
Welcome, welcome,
This space was always reserved for you.”
I will love him like it a religious duty,
A cultural duty,
An ethnic duty.
I will love him like it is salvation,
Like it means keeping my people alive.
Farah Gabdon
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