Sorry, there’s no room at the inn
As in, there’s plenty of rooms But not enough rubles, dollars, euros, yen pounds in your pocket to come in. There’s no room at the inn, As in, there’s plenty of rooms, But inside, the right side of the borders siding with the people who were born inside the borders Not the people whose homes have been bordered by our troops, torn down, blown up, burnt out by us, waging war against the land that supports us Rockets rain down always outside the borders, where people can’t come in. Inside rocket ships, billionaires lie down to sleep While billions sleep in the street Will you really claim space travel is for humanity When there’s no humanity in how people are treated next to me?
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorI write stories, but sometimes I write poetry about the slippery and crunchy moments in life. Archives
July 2023
|