My family home comes to assume
hidden gates and padlocked doors
My home has now become my room
and if I had a computer,
a small but steady flow of cash
and electricity
Perhaps I could resume
all my studies here alone
far from the rowdy campus boys
wearing their amulets and rings
who I can trust no more.
My father was a businessman
who now desists from travelling
even over town
My mother was a healthy woman
sturdy, cancer-free
And I was carefree in my turn
with urban cruelty less strong
than this dictatorship of fear
That leaves no public place
no lecture hall or intersecting street
clean of murderous air.
Behind the whitewashed walls I wait
for foreign armies to withdraw
for hope to stand its ground or be restored,
security to win its bout with hate
With stocks and patience running low
five times a day I pray
and genuflect for peace
I wonder if exile provides escape?
For if I stay, it will be easier
to open up these gates, admit defeat
And find my last solution
with the gangs that own the street.
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