I want you to understand my life and my vanishing identity
having lost the meaning of my life — now I survive ...
it is like being a child again
I am trying to tell you my needs while I am learning to speak again
I am discovering my new world and what is there for me
you know I am looking for my rights
I don't know what happens if I am sick
I don't know either if my children become ill
Once my hands were fruitful — now they are tied up
they are skilled hands but you don't see them
they want to produce again and they will go anywhere
to contribute in the new world
Like a child I am scared of the dark
not having a home to go to at night
I have space and a house but in this ...
there is not a warm bed and when I feel alone and lost
the door of the house is closed
I have found other forsaken children like me
we need the understanding and care
of those who can show us the path
and their hands to become independent again
I like to make you understand
that in my country there was no queue to jump ...
I had to leave
and I did not choose to become a child again
This poem was written by asylum seekers from the Refugee Claimants Support Centre in Brisbane. Their names have been withheld because they fear for their safety. It is from the CD, Scattered People.
From 91×ÔÅÄÂÛ̳ Weekly, December 5, 2001.
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