Obama Has A Strange Name They Say
Obama has a strange name they say
But then so do I
Strange for here but not for there
Stranger and stranger as the world becomes
Freer and freer, no frontiers
Depending for whom
Depending for where.
Travellers we are all: nomads in this world
That keeps contracting and still
Strangers remain strangers and worse
Foreignors remain strangers on
Shores that remain devoid of warmth.
What is foreign? Coming from which shores
And arriving where? Are foreignors strange because
They have strange names
Or do they act strange? A strange kind of modernity dictates
That everyone looks and speaks alike
Devoid of accent, devoid of strange words
That's how it is and now Obama with his strange name
And me with mine: we have associations to the past
To some far-off land; stranger I am still
My hair, like Obama's, says where I come from.
My eyes, like Obama's, say where I come from.
My skin, like Obama's speaks louder than words.
I am the sum of all that came before.
My strangeness is just that:
I brought a slice of the world with me when I came.
Copyright: 2008 Rani Turton
