Legon Botanical Gardens, Legon, Ghana

I am a refugee,
of time past,
scribing its lines,
like ritual tattoos,
across my face,
times I can’t return to alive,
happiness trapped in moments,
that can’t be revived,
trick my mind with dèjá vu,
of time lost long ago,
hope antagonizes me.

I am a refugee,
of Love wasted,
on lies, love that lies,
in a landfill,
waiting to be burned again.
Love that’s a denizen in a
State of mind,
crouching in wait.
camouflaged in denial,
on alert for hate,
armed with logic,
defending its own,
need for survival.
Hoping to not
return the hate,
that’s being projected.
Hoping to not
be deported back,
To the hate that was elected.

I am a refugee,
of Life spent,
empathizing for those
not strong enough to defend, self
those not expecting death,
to come from a loving hand,
Made martyrs by a mind bereft of love,
or those not expecting death to come today,
to them, with this present,
mass murders of innocents,
torture by abusive parents,
or by those who are vigilants,
for a perceived threat, from a native son,
who’s only carrying a pack of skittles,
or death by those sworn to protect,
my tears are not enough to wash away.
The decay of love.
I seek refuge
Until the hate that’s being deployed,
Has been defused,
And division be destroyed,
I am a refugee,
Until peace has been restored,
And love is again, employed.

victori © 3 Mar 2020

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