When they come
They say we need their help.
They come in their numbers
preaching salvation,
while their own people sell their souls,
for the hope to keep living.
They offer hugs we receive with arms wide open,
and their fingers, long enough, pick from our pockets.
They take our people and our land
and are angered when we fight back.
They create the beginnings of our problems,
planting disaccord and distrust among us
as if they were seeds.
They stab us in the back
and put pressure on the wound
as if they were being helpful.
Now they come to my country,
taking pictures of the unfortunate
and handing out sweets we did not ask for.
And they bring along laws that speak of a peace,
we once knew in their absence.
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