The Gay Son

The Gay Son. 

They locked me in a room in a house I knew 
They told me my father was a tyrant.
How was I to know? My old dad is a nice man
gave us everything we wanted. 
 
I have left this house knew of a secret exit,
joined my mother and we fled to Algeria. 
I’m not a warrior, like my brother, I hate guns
and posing in uniforms. 

My sister has just given birth to a baby girl
and that’s nice; I will never be a father and 
if my dad knew the reason his tough warrior 
ideology would have hurt him deeply.
 
I know they will kill my old man, he knows too
much about the new rulers to let him live;
after all, many of them did his bidding. Me?
They will surely string me up for being gay.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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