Struggles of a Migrant Job Seeker
With every waking moment, I hear that anything’s possible
But to them, my inequity seems plausible
The soil on which I was conceived appears to be a risk;
Appears to suggest a lesser value.
I stick to my five a day like it’s a spiritual doctrine;
Yet this time not of fruits but of job applications.
I sacrifice my mental and physical health for security
Yet, I’m reminded that foreign nationals are not functional
Day by day, I learn the hard way …
… that their national policies of inclusion are purely deceptional –
fictional and surely not operational.
Sitting in my room on Chancery Lane, I search for the upside
But this hustle is eating me alive
I love their nation but it is unrequited
The whispers remind me that I don’t belong here
Meanwhile, my inbox floods with rejection e-mails
The different shade of my passport suggests my human capital is not worthy
The ignorance is amazing; my rage rising
They consider immigration an abomination
As they sit on their thrones, carved with imperialist gold.
To fork out a living, all I need is decent work
Figuratively, they nod their heads ‘no’
But why? Is that too much to ask?
How come no one has faith in me?
Why do the lawmakers punish those who do?
With taxes and fines, name-shaming and levies,
Anyone who dares to care is burnt at the stake.
Why do I threaten them so much?
By Akachi Obijiaku
Akachi Obijiaku is an emerging poet residing in London. Originally from Nigeria, she is interested in international arts development and practice. Only three months after writing her first ever poem, one of her works has been accepted for publication in a 2018 issue of the Sentinel Literary Quarterly. She uses poetry as a platform to address social ills.