The Somalian Child

Could I have it? Your last piece of bread, the one you are about to throw away? What of your used teabag? I haven’t had tea in a while. How about your food? The one you left on your plate last night. I wouldn’t mind, although it’s cold. What of an apple? Heard of it in tales, never tasted it. Where I’m from, we can’t grow apples. Would you mind lending me a blanket, for when it gets cold at night? I use mother’s scarf, but then she gets cold too. Could you tell me what it’s like to dream? When I fall asleep, all I see is empty space. What of how to read? Or even write? Could you teach me? I can’t go to school, although I want to learn. Can you see my ribs? and the size of my head? with my bulgy eyes? I wasn’t always like this, I’m sorry if I scare you. Where I’m from, there are more like me. Could you hold me up? I can’t walk on my own, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, it is all not my fault, I am just a victim. Last of my favours, could you give me a smile? better yet a hug? All around me is sadness, let me feel your joy. I’m sorry if I’m being a bore, where I come from we have no dreams, we have no joy, we have no laughter, we are refugees, yet we believe and we have faith…. Change will come. I’m the Somalian Child.