I come from a musical place Where they shoot me for my song And my brother has been tortured By my brother in my land.

I come from a beautiful place Where they hate my shade of skin They don’t like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.

I come from a beautiful place
Where girls cannot go to school
There you are told what to believe
And even young boys must grow beards.

I come from a great old forest I think it is now a field
And the people I once knew Are not there now.

We can all be refugees Nobody is safe,
All it takes is a mad leader
Or no rain to bring forth food, We can all be refugees
We can all be told to go,
We can be hated by someone For being someone.

I come from a beautiful place Where the valley floods each year And each year the hurricane tells us That we must keep moving on.

I come from an ancient place All my family were born there And I would like to go there But I really want to live.

I come from a sunny, sandy place Where tourists go to darken skin And dealers like to sell guns there I just can’t tell you what’s the price.

I am told I have no country now
I am told I am a lie
I am told that modern history books May forget my name.

We can all be refugees
Sometimes it only takes a day, Sometimes it only takes a handshake Or a paper that is signed.
We all came from refugees
Nobody simply just appeared, Nobody’s here without a struggle, And why should we live in fear
Of the weather or the troubles?
We all came here from somewhere.

Benjamin Zephaniah is was poet, essayist, novelist, lyricist born in Birmingham, England. He wrote extensively on a number of social issues and was recognised by Time Magazine as one of Britain’s top 50 writers in the post-war era. Further information can be found at http://benjaminzepha- niah.com/biography/

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