Tree People

There were these years I talked them down
From a life unknown to me to one too well know
Scraping and surviving
No one gave them a chance

I had this translator Harun
He was the only of his kind here in Cleveland
He spoke my language which was forgiving
He spoke their language which I made demanding

You raise your hand when they asked if you wanted to go to America
Ha
From Kakuma or was it Dadaab
The latter older I imagined worse
Former enjoyed the sound of the name

But my translator told me what I knew
They lived different there
They told each other stories
They had no more time

There are no excuses for the refugee that makes it to America
Oh they work or someone they love does very hard
There's no way around here
The system goes in circles

So that was my first day it said they were tree people
I wanted to climb up with them
Oh to be a refugee in the great Zimbabwe