Monday, 4 March 2013

The Dreaded Question

-The Dreaded Question-

'Where are you from?'
It was the dreaded question,
Asked out of forced politeness
My stomach sinks,
My heart skips a beat
As I mumble a reply:
'Here and there, I've
Been a few places.'
And then I escape the
Glazed over eyes, and
The questioning glances.
But the question haunts
When I'm all alone.
'Where are you from?'
Where am I from? I know
That somewhere I felt safe
There was a place where
I belonged, but here,
Here I am a curiosity
A strange unknown species
To be stared at and mocked
For an accent that
I did not even know I had.
Just once, can I be known
For who I am, not where I'm from.
Don't try to classify me
Like an animal in a zoo,
I'm not a hyena from Timbuktu
For once can you see
That it's who I am
And not where I'm from
That should matter to you.

1 comment:

  1. Yes, it IS the dreaded question, isn't it? :) I found this through another blogger's facebook page. I'm an MK (all grown up now) and wrote a piece recently about that same question. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who dreads being asked.
    Jen @ Being Confident of This

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