"Anywhere is Safer Than Here"

This remarkable poem, "Home" by Warsan Shire, was read during Saturday night's "Notes Against the Ban" concert at Peace United.

Home is the mouth of the shark
Home is the barrel of the gun 

Warsan Shire is a Kenyan-born Somali poet, and a writer and educator based in London. Born in 1988, Warsan has read her work extensively all over Britain and internationally – including recent readings in South Africa, Italy, Germany, Canada, North America and Kenya.  Her her début book, ‘TEACHING MY MOTHER HOW TO GIVE BIRTH’, was published in 2011. Her poems have been published in Wasafiri, Magma, Poetry Review, and in the anthology ‘The Salt Book of Younger Poets’ (Salt, 2011). She is the current poetry editor at SPOOK magazine. In 2012 she represented Somalia at the Poetry Parnassus, the festival of the world poets at the Southbank, London. She is a Complete Works II poet. Her poetry has been translated into Italian, Spanish and Portuguese. Warsan is also the unanimous winner of the 2013 Inaugural Brunel University African Poetry Prize. 

“Home” by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless 
home is the mouth of a shark 
you only run for the border 
when you see the whole city running as well 

your neighbors running faster than you 
breath bloody in their throats 
the boy you went to school with 
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory 
is holding a gun bigger than his body 
you only leave home 
when home won’t let you stay. 

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet 
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing 
until the blade burnt threats into 
your neck 
and even then you carried the anthem under 
your breath 
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets 
sobbing as each mouthful of paper 
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back. 

you have to understand, 
that no one puts their children in a boat 
unless the water is safer than the land 
no one burns their palms 
under trains 
beneath carriages 
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck 
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey. 
no one crawls under fences 
no one wants to be beaten pitied

no one chooses refugee camps 
or strip searches where your 
body is left aching 
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire 
and one prison guard 
in the night 
is better than a truckload 
of men who look like your father 
no one could take it 
no one could stomach it 
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks 
refugees 
dirty immigrants 
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry 
niggers with their hands out 
they smell strange 
savage 
messed up their country and now they want 
to mess ours up 
how do the words 
the dirty looks 
roll off your backs 
maybe because the blow is softer 
than a limb torn off 

or the words are more tender 
than fourteen men between 
your legs 
or the insults are easier
to swallow 
than rubble 
than bone 
than your child body 
in pieces. 
i want to go home, 
but home is the mouth of a shark 
home is the barrel of the gun 
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore 
unless home told you 
to quicken your legs 
leave your clothes behind 
crawl through the desert 
wade through the oceans 
drown 
save 
be hunger 
beg 
forget pride 
your survival is more important 

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear 
saying- leave,
run away from me now 
i dont know what i’ve become 
but i know that anywhere 
is safer than here