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Poem

August 21, 2011

1 min read

A touching poem by an Ethiopian migrant domestic worker living in Beirut for the past 8 years. It mirrors a lot.

Linked from here - Opens in new tab.

On refuge, I thought that there was really going to be a change in my life.

I didn't know it's grave like you die.

I was thinking also about dollars.

To gratify myself but nothing has changed.

It's just wasting my time on refuge which I though was really going to affect my life.

My power is finished by coming and going.

I lost my younger age.

I got sick and tired.

Have you had a similar experience?

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How do you build servitude?

August 22, 2011

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