Gilrael

I'm a child of immigrants, Travelling should be in my blood And yet I remain rooted in the Black Forest. “Russlanddeutsche” Is what they call us, is what we call ourselves sometimes, And in doing so we ignore the fact That most of our families have never lived in Russia. But USSR-Germans Doesn't roll off our tongues quite as well And in the end it wouldn't even change a thing. I don't speak Russian And the same goes for my brothers. One of them used to, he still understands, But speaking? He doesn't speak anymore. In my family my grandparents are the only ones who still know Kazakh. I'm a child of immigrants, Travelling should b

Ich bin ein Kind von Migranten, Reisen sollte mir im Blut stecken Und trotzdem bin ich mit dem Schwarzwald verwurzelt. Russlanddeutsche Nennt man uns, nennen wir uns manchmal selbst, Und ignorieren dabei die Tatsache, Dass die Meisten von unseren Familien nie in Russland gelebt haben. Aber UdSSR-Deutsche kommt nicht so leicht über die Zunge Und würde am Ende doch nichts ändern. Ich spreche kein Russisch, Meine Brüder auch nicht. Der Eine hat's mal gelernt, versteht es auch noch. Aber reden? Tut er nicht. Kasachisch können in meiner Familie nur noch die Großeltern. Ich bin ein Kind von Migranten, Reisen sollte m

Grandma is scared of refugees. And here I am being harassed By the same white guys That've lived here forever. I don't believe in white knights in shining armour. Sometimes I wonder Where all this fear comes from. I've always been scared Of walking the streets at night. It's just as bad as it used to be, but it's not getting any worse. Grandma says they don't belong. Neither did our ancestors, Who fled religious persecution And ended up in Georgia. In her mind they are all potential terrorists, No matter their religion, Or level of education. Grandma was born in Georgia, But never knew how to speak Georgian. Now she complains about ref

The day I woke up Was the day I lost my innocence. I opened my eyes for the first time Only to bear witness to broken Homes and twisted faith. I wanted to close my eyes again, But they wouldn't stay shut. I'm walking through the ruins of my family Strewn with rubble, Through churches that in all their splendour Forgot that they were founded To right the wrongs Of the ones before them. Before I woke up I never noticed the decay. I want to rebuild, But the priests won't let me. Nowadays I understand Why my parents left faith behind. I can't do that, though. It's what keeps me going, Although my eyes are bloodshot And my feet are sore. I w

You cursed the well From which you drank. Now you ask me where the water went. It has trickled through the cracks That were caused by your words; It evaporated in the heat of the argument. You say you're proud Of the way I chose to take. Now I'm afraid to tell you That I won't follow in your footsteps. Although you think I do, I don't share your values. I'm not known for blind faith. I wish I could tell you the truth. I probably could, But it'd just cause you grief; And I already said that I'm not like you. Now I'm getting used to sleepless nights. I'm forced to silence, Because of a fight I'm not willing to fight, Because of the pain you i

All it takes is a second And then it's over In a bang. So many Years, thoughts, stories, memories Are gone, maybe forever. Worry and misdirected anger Come and go, Leaving behind a sense of helpless dread As I wait, And wait. There's nothing else to do. The only thing That keeps my hands from shaking Is keeping them busy; Busy writing, typing. But nothing can keep my thoughts Away from utter chaos. One single moment And before you know it Everything changes. And that's why I sit here, Hoping beyond hope, That my prayers will be heard.