14/08/21
Perched high up, The wren, The feather, The acorn, surveys the world of men and women. Nations come and go. Cities built and rebuilt. People welcomed and unwelcomed. How far they travel. How high they build. How deep they dig. And yet, When the times come, They scatter. They dwindle. They vanish. Here today, gone tomorrow. Empires, Nations, Countries, Manmade allegiances. And how they kill, And how they rape, And how they pillage, In the name of these banners. We are what you are not. You are what we are not. Therefore we must kill. How blood drenched How jaw clenched, How swords clanked For a country. Where do I belong? Nor here, nor there. Nor to you, nor to them. Nor to myself, nor to the world. To the path, To the way, To The Creator. God. They wave their flags. They sing their anthems. They weave their history. I feel empathy. I feel sympathy. I feel apathy. I am not yours. I am not here. I am not this. I wish I did belong. It would be easier. It would be gentler. It would be sweeter. Instead, I have each foot planted in a different soil. I have each hand holding different trees. I have each wings seeking a different horizon. Must I belong anywhere?
Layla Ali Sultan 