The Chant of Lima’s Refugees

(sometimes-and only sometimes- I feel like a refugee, even when my alien status is not the one of a refugee)

Can’t go home

cause auntie got kidnapped

and it could happen to me,

cause uncle got shot

and it could happen to me.

Can’t go home

permanently.

Now I know what safe feels like

(relatively).

This is the chant of Lima’s refugees.

We got tired of seeing poor people in the streets,

of being mugged and robbed and remain still.

But we know in our hearts the poor did not dissappear

and what we escaped could happen to our relatives.

This is the chant of Lima’s refugees.

We thought this was normal,

the way we used to live,

watching our backs all the time when we walked the streets,

being afraid of taxi drivers that could make us dissappear.

This is the chant of Lima’s refugees.

Don’t take me wrong, Lima is “the bomb”.

The people are warm, the nightlife is fun.

My future nephew will make it a better place

and I miss all my friends who still live there,

my family, my sister, my past-life too.

I even miss catholic school.

And I want to go back almost every day

but I don’t know if I could ever feel safe again

cause Lima’s refugees have escaped

a “normalcy” that we view now as insane,

which is the reality of those we love,

of those who we miss, of those who stayed.

This is the chant of Lima’s refugees…

too scared to go back

with desire and means to leave.

04/26/08

m.c.b.z.