🌑 They Came Willingly
They were not brought here in chains.
They came willingly.
Stepping across borders,
not chased by war,
but by curiosity —
and a hunger for something they could not name.
They are not the oppressed.
They live like kings
among Europeans
who bow to guilt,
and silence truth.
They walk with pride
in lands that are not theirs,
while I,
the daughter of a people with no flag,
am still called
stateless.
They clean homes here —
yes.
But they look at us
as if we are less.
Because they have the passport.
The skin that now wins.
The silence of the world on their side.
But I see them.
I see how they look at my skin,
my shape,
my history.
They do not want to belong.
They want to absorb.
To become what they are not
by being near us.
And yet —
we are the ones
without a country.