Tuesday, 30 March 2010

These Four Walls

I got off a boat and they
Brought me here for
A new life, a better life.

Prisoner of war.
That’s my name. I am defined by first being kept within these four walls
And second by the war that tore
My mother apart, my sister apart.
That tore my father apart.

Asylum seeker.
That’s me. Seeking asylum
In this island that covers me like a fishing net.
I don’t want to be here.
There is no goodness here,
For me, under this net that doesn’t let me breathe.
In this place with alien names and alien people
And alien, horrible food.

A new life, a better life.
Between these four walls.
These unpainted, rotting walls with mould growing all over them.

I stop listening. What is the point in listening?
I stop reading. What is the point in reading?
I stop watching the screen with moving images
That upset me.

What’s the point?