Security of Person

Security of Person

That I am here

writing,

not running

from bombs

of chemicals

or fire,

not hiding

from soldiers

for whom rape

is a weapon
of war,

not afraid

of going to jail

or dying

in a genocide

if I say

in this poem,

my government

fails me,

not silenced

to keep from

getting killed

by male relatives

hell-bent

on calling murder

a matter

of honour,

not in terror

of death

by land theft,

unmanned drones

or a wall

going up

between me

and the fields

where I grow my

family’s food,

not in a tent

facing the night

in a refugee camp

in a country

that doesn’t want me

because my country

is getting

blown away,

not kidnapped,

trafficked to God

knows where,

not enslaved.

that I am here

at my desk by the window,

attempting poetry

means that

for this moment,

I am safe.

So this poem

must be written

for the ones

too busy surviving

to write,

for mothers

in the millions

who’ve never known safety

in their entire lives,

to bear them witness,

to demand

the human right

to security of person

be upheld

for all people

of the earth

at last,

because the safe ones

aren’t really safe

and poets

can’t be counted

among the silent ones.