At the other side of the fence...

It's a Thursday afternoon

And I'm driving from my sister's school to our new house.

It's been two years since we shifted but I still take the wrong turns;

My mind's a mess from trying to learn the new directions.

These roads don't lead me to what I call home.

It's also 2018.

Which is to say that two years later it'll be 2020

and my countrymen would be asked to leave their homes,

asked to go to where they came from,

and every voice stating they were born here will be silenced.

On arriving home, our maid's daughter comes running to my sister,

tells her about how she has painted the walls of her house:

Each with birds of different colors.

Two years later, she might be asked to run away.

Two years later all the four walls might get painted with the same color.

But today, she tells her about how beautiful they look together and it's the happiest I've ever seen her.

I look at the flowers in the garden,

They're beautiful

and blooming

and protected by a fence.

Two years later,

across the town, there'll be families being torn apart,

houses destroyed,

my country would witness one of it's darkest times,

people will be shot for trying to stand up for themselves.

And I'll be here,

at the safer side of the fence,

Watching.