Tierra Prometida

I came because in my homeland things are going wrong,
violence and poverty are advancing at a deadly pace,
I had to leave, seek a future for myself,
resurge, resist, and manage to survive.
The dream of crossing the strait in a small boat,
while the coast guard waits in vigil to catch you,
the odyssey of crossing the entire sphere,
with no destination or money going nowhere.
Will, sacrifice, from building to building,
I am looking for a job, on the edge of the precipice I am,
a job that will lift me from down here,
give my children shelter, show them who I am.
I fight against their desires and their hypocrisy,
I fight every day against their immigration laws,
I fight against those who see my race as a threat,
those who interfere and reject me.
You are no different from me, you are no different from me,
that's my struggle and when my boss exploits me, who listens to me?,
without papers, there is no work and without work, there are no papers,
Spain traps me in its webs.
What can I do?, I breathe despair,
I live in a dark hole because my rent is not enough,
I go to the internet cafe daily, that's my duty,
to know how my family is, what they have to eat.
Some idiotic patriots treat me like a beast,
abuse in secret, allude to the intruder who is a nuisance,
go back to the jungle, black, this is not your town,
foreigner, stranger without money, and I don't fit in.
The gray landscape of my country forced me to flee,
doing dirty jobs so as not to stand out,
nostalgia for a childhood that is history,
in my memory a yesterday so distant that I will not live again.
The mistake of being Colombian, Sub-Saharan, Roman,
the fear of seeing few extend their hand,
fear of my skin, fear of my being and my customs,
seeing me pray in another language irritates and confuses them.
And who cares if I move away and don't adapt,
to the sudden abduction of the rich neighboring country, I only share,
I share in my community my goods, my evils,
frustrations and joys, ancestral traditions.
(Anyway, Spain is not a racist country),
but my name is on the list and some follow my trail,
how long will this marginalization last?,
my difference is an excuse and they use it as a reason for oppression.
I have documentation after months of adaptation,
after learning your language and a profession,
I will study your culture, learn its details,
if I will stay in Spain, if your streets allow me.
If your streets welcome me. I will stay. I will share my customs. And even the color of my skin. If your streets hate me. Here I will be. I came to stay. So get used to it.