No-one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark
Home, 2009
Warsan Shire, British Somali, born Kenya 1988
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.
Refugees Series, 2017/18, scrap metal, steel.
Ginane Makki Bacho, born Beirut, Lebanon, 1947
your neighbours running faster
than you, 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.
Refugees Series, 2017/18, scrap metal, steel.
Ginane Makki Bacho, born Beirut, Lebanon, 1947
no one would leave home
unless home chased you, fire under feet,
hot blood in your belly.
Exodus VI; bronze
Ginane Makki Bacho, born Beirut, Lebanon, 1947.
Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
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 toilet sobbing as each mouthful of paper made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
Exodus VI; bronze
Ginane Makki Bacho, born Beirut, Lebanon, 1947.
Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
You have to understand,
no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land.
Untitled, 1984; India ink on turpentine-treated, smooth, medium weight, transparent wove paper.
Giuseppe Penone, Italian born 1947. Philadelphia Art Museum
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.
Damascene Athan, 2017, plaster, paint, found objects.
Mohamad Hafez, Syrian born 1984. Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
no one crawls under fences no one wants to be beaten pitied
Damascene Athan, 2017, plaster, paint, found objects.
Mohamad Hafez, Syrian born 1984. Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
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
Sacrifice, 2014, bronze and found wooden object.
Nick Cave, American born 1959. Private collection on loan to the Solomon R. Guggenheim, NY in 2022
the go home blacks refugees dirty immigrants asylum seekers sucking our country dry niggers with their hands out they smell strange
Sacrifice, 2014, bronze and found wooden object.
Nick Cave, American born 1959. Private collection on loan to the Solomon R. Guggenheim, NY in 2022
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
Bagage Series 4, 2016, plaster, paint, antique suitcase, found objects.
Mohamad Hafez, Syrian born 1984. Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
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.
Bagage Series 4, 2016, plaster, paint, antique suitcase, found objects.
Mohamad Hafez, Syrian born 1984. Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
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
Bagage Series 4, 2016, plaster, paint, antique suitcase, found objects.
Mohamad Hafez, Syrian born 1984. Exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum, NY in 2018/19
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear saying- leave, run away from me now
Untitled, 2021, perforated inkjet print.
Idalia Vasquez-Achury, born Colombia 1973. Loaned by the artist to the Woodmere Art Museum in 2022
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere is safer than here
Untitled, 2021, perforated inkjet print.
Idalia Vasquez-Achury, born Colombia 1973. Loaned by the artist to the Woodmere Art Museum in 2022
