The Other Child

As the candles on his thirteenth
birthday cake were blown
so ended a dear dream.

Unlike his freshly-minted teenage friends
he is labelled different.
Losing the camaraderie of childhood friends,
set aside as a refugee.
A word he would hear more and more.

He too was born in this land.
Sang Negaraku* every school week,
the last six years.
Now those doors he yearned for
are closed to him.

Do I not breathe the same air as them?
Drink the same water?
Eat the same food?
Speak the same language?
Is my blood so different?
It bled the same colour on our school field.

His parents are silent.
They have no answers.
They say: Be patient.
God will answer our prayers.

I have not changed overnight.
But they see me different now.
My sun-filled school days now grey.
I now wait for my father
with news of a new school
among others sharing a similar fate
born in this land
but still a refugee.

*National anthem