Beliefs

 

Our beliefs,

They lingered on jagged rooftops

and worn out skies.

We loathed the acrid stench of burnt garbage,

and rotting lies.

We longed for days that would provide us an escape.

For this to be no longer.

Our beliefs were stubborn.

They did not carry through miles,

We did not care that they did not belong,

So we left them, in the cracks of the broken tiles 

of mama's kitchen.

Youthful faces glowed with the glory of escape,

Expectations farther in the clouds than their heads.

But as time etched onto their skin they wrote,

"We do not want perfect green lawns and city sights.

We do not want foreign faces and white lies.

We want dead grass to crunch against our soles,

open smoggy skies and faces we call home.

This is the truth of what we want."

a poem by Alyana Khan