Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault? 

That I was born on your lap? 

Or is there something more to it? 

Don’t I deserve to live a life, 

With an identity and dignity? 

I saw dad fighting all through, 

Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault? 

Were you both born like this? 

With no one to claim as relatives

And no country to claim as your own? 

I grew up within you, in the abode, 

Which was cozy and secure. 

Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault? 

That I was born on a land, 

Which doesn’t even seem mine. 

Where do I belong? 

What is my identity? 

What do I claim as my country? 

Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault? 

That I am homeless! 

I still wonder,at sixty, whom to call my own. 

Do I have a permanent place to rest

And stay peaceful like many others? 

This worry makes me weak and I cry, 

Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault? 

Photo by Eric Masur on Unsplash