You ask who I am, you look
for the colour of my eyes
what is sickening me
the status of my past

In the absence of facts you search
for traces, indicating words
places of interest, preferably living
people, who add pieces

to my portrait, since I am
camouflaged by namesakes
You don't want to stand guard
at my door, not try if it's me

who in school learned the stories
of the Jewish people and God on earth
who learned dead languages, and critique
(be able to distinguish)

who read of the shining armour
the red palace, sand for the coast
and foolish bees - all heavenly
and in vain, fragmented tales

because otherwise it would be fiction
Liberty, Equality and Fraternity always
scaffolded, pollarded and fenced off
Read, it says who we are, who I am