Category Archives: poetry

My Life in a Foreign Land

My Life in a Foreign Land

By Rea Maac

It’s midnight and yet I’m still awake
It will be my last night in my own bed
We will not be together for 2 years
As I have a journey to seek.

I know in the days ahead
Everything will really change
Just hoping I can overcome
And always stay calm.

While my mind can’t rest, my eyes have given up
Until my alarm clock sounds so loud
Time to wake up and get ready
For my first flight to a foreign country.

I head to the airport with my family
I smile at them as if I’m fine
Just wave my hand as a sign of goodbye
Coz I don’t like to show them that I cry.

Inside the airplane I let it go
I cry as if there is no tomorrow
My family I will truly miss
Coz they are my life and my happiness.

After a few hours, the airplane lands
My heart is trembling like an earthquake
Honestly I am totally scared
“Oh God help me,” I pray.

My new life is about to begin
Not sure what will happen
A life so different from what it used to be
I have to accept it will never be easy.

Yes it’s tough from the very start
A big adjustment on my part
To be able to adopt their ways of living
Totally different in everything.

Every night, pain moves into my eyes
I don’t even know how I can survive
It’s so hard to set aside
The loneliness I feel inside.

I know I shouldn’t be in depression
Because it may destroy my ambition
Thinking of my family as inspiration
To be strong is a good decision.

As the days pass, I’m slowly getting used to it
Though sometimes sadness still comes
I just keep reminding myself to be strong
Soon I’ll go back to the place where I belong.

Being in a foreign land is a big risk
You will encounter a lot of hindrances
But don’t give up, keep moving instead
You must be a fighter if you want to succeed.

Never involve yourself in any trouble
Remember to be kind and humble
Respect all the people around you
So in return, they will respect you too.

And now it’s been 7 years
I’m fully adjusted and there’s no more fear
There are times sadness is still a trigger
But that is normal, it won’t last longer.

Let me give you some advice
Just always pray and do your best
God is watching, he will do the rest.


My Hero

MY HERO (Migrants)


She has a beautiful smile

And she takes care of an old man who is senile

No one knows how hard she works

At night she wakes and talks


She cries, when she is tired and lonely

Her hand phone is her company

She prays when she is weary

Hoping to have energy

To continue her journey.


When she does things and her bosses are not happy

They will start insulting & shouting till noon day

And off day during Sunday.

Life is not fair as they always say

Working hard but no money

Because my salary is not enough for my family,

To rest, eat, play and pray.


But some are working during Sunday

Cleaning, cooking and taking care of the whole family

I feel so sad to learned about their plight

Working whole day until night.

When the day is done

Her tiredness will be gone.


Oh what a life I should say

Working very hard for my family

I sometimes no time to eat

Because I rush my work and have time to meet,


Migrants or Domestic Worker shall I say

All is work everyday and even then they bully.


By: Miss Saturnina De Los Santos Rotelo (Cute)













By Bhing Navato

This is our life as a migrant. You can stay or leave. There are no promises, but many surprises. Uncertainty, not being sure of the future. We just have to be ready for everything. Be mindful of every circumstance. This is us. The migrants.

Happiness that we want, will happen, but briefly. There is a limitation in everything. I keep trying to evaluate every situation, but it’s not us. Because our fate is in your hands. That is the reality. That’s how we are. The migrants.

When you look around, it’s all beautiful tall buildings. Houses are clean..sidewalks are litter free.Your children are well fed, sent to school, safely brought back home. Dinner is served.  You have nothing to worry, because we don’t want you to worry. We build relationships, we want a happy working environment. Not because we are migrants, but because we are human beings too.

I know, you can feel the love and respect we show you.We are happy if we see how you appreciate us. That stingy smile you will show means a lot to us; at least you smiled. Lines are drawn between us, we cannot mingle too much. It is okay, because we are migrants.

But uncertainty is constant to us. We have to accept that. We need to get used to it.Emotional feelings will not matter. It will change. We came here alone, we managed to survive, but still at the end, we are alone. That is our life. As a migrant.

The second home

By Ma. Jasmin Tingala

The Second Home


The day I left

The place where I lived

Leaving behind

All love of mine


In search of earning a good living

For a family that was waiting

However tough I may seem

As long as it is for them


Homesickness was the first thing to encounter

Once we separated from each other

Though it’s so painful to be away

We remain connected every day


The second home

Where I am now

Is not what I want

But it is in demand


Life’s hard undeniably

Being far from where we used to be

The only thing that makes us stay

Is a kind of living we can earn fairly


The second place we work today

Is different from our own country

We went from simple to difficult

And let them know we’re able to flaunt


Not all were lucky

To have a good employer’s family

But we do our best

To show our kindest

And promise to do what we signed

Till we finish our contract that they designed


So I’m telling you all

Being an OFW sounds cool

But it’s like trying to break out of a maze wall

Finding a way to be out and free

All we do is work and pray!

I found a home in HOME

By Cherie Roa

I found a home in HOME


In HOME I found many friends,

who come from different countries.

They are very friendly and very caring.

In HOME I feel secure, safe.


Some girls come and go.

When someone is crying,

I feel the same way too.

Some other girls give their free hugs,

say ‘don’t worry, everything will be allright.’


In HOME I found a family.

We are not sisters by blood,

But we treat each other like that.




By Myrna Javier del Carmen


As a dry leaf that hesitantly flies, and is snatched by hurricane away,

thus live on earth Overseas Foreign Workers, armed with aim, love and country,

impaled by an invisible hand, they work from cities to shore,

their memories will keep them company, of loved ones, a happy day of yore.


Overseas Foreign Workers, that is what we are,

struggling to ease life’s turmoil

somehow we manage without fear,

back home, we know they care.


We are here in a strange land, where different cultures vary,

ignorant and overwhelmed by this first world country, we do our best to adapt and carry,

letters are our only happiness, bringing joy to our daily tasks,

smiling and reminiscing, even to our slumber, they help us to stay and bear much longer


Loneliness and painstaking memories are the plight of foreign workers like me,

some end up with bosses that are wicked and bad,

enduring all just so the family will have


Material things abound everywhere,  still we got to save for our love ones dear,

we resist succumbing to temptations, evil things just leads to doom and damnation.


Contributing to our country economy, we are the unsung heroes of our own right,

I proudly say: Go dear Overseas Foreign Workers, go

Don’t turn back your face, for in your grief the world simply mocks you



 Myrna Javier del Carmen, is 45 years old, and married.  She hails from Banate, Iloilo, Philippines. Myrna has been working as a domestic worker in Singapore for 18 years.

Image by Elena Kotliarker

Mama, Where Are You?

Many domestic workers leave behind young children in their home countries, when they come to Singapore to work. Most of them do this for the benefit of the children, to pay for their upkeep, education or medical costs. But how do you explain that to a  young child? The child just knows that it misses its mama.  Myrna Javier wrote this heart-breaking poem about a child that misses it’s mother in faraway Singapore.

By: Myrna Javier


Mama, Where Are You? 


Where are thou dear Mother?

Tears in thane innocent eyes come hither.

Melancholy look from a distance.

Hoping to get a glimpse by chance.



Scenarios like this happens at home

When the beacon of light is gone

Even the pillars that remain

Won’t be able to hold

The sadness of the heart and longing

The joy of a mama could bring.



Father, where is my dearest Mama?

Tearfully ask the little one.

Papa can’t give her the right answer

That Mama went to seek for a job on a foreign land

To give us all the better life and free us all from all this strife.


Suppressed happiness in exchange of a dime to a dollar.

Scarcity, of everything, shelter, food and tattered clothes

Simple yet happy filled with love and unity.


Hush dear child, be patient and good.

Dear Mama will be home

Until then let’s smile at the sun and moon

She’ll be with us forever soon


By: Myla


A place I can’t believe my humanity disowned

Fears and worries that I might one day break down.

People surround me; don’t know if they can be trusted

To whom can I run?


My strength is the root of my journey

From this place I called my second home.

But I don’t feel safe as cruel people live here

Am I protected from harm?


Wrong judgement of who I am

Discrimination because of where I came from

Dejection is what I feel now

Do you care or not?


Voice that has been unheard

Please lend me your ears.

I speak with a heart and God beside me

Hoping one day I will feel safe and you care about me.

No more worries from this place I called my second home






By Myrna


I can see the flower upon which my life grows,

Blooming into a rose.

I see the hope and courage

In the strength of the petals.


As long as I am, I will be alone

But the flower will never wilt or die.


As my life grows back,

I shall become strong

I shall become only dependent on one:

That one will be me.


I will rise with my petals high

My life as a flower will bloom and prosper as I grow.

I may not be the pick of the patch

But I am just as beautiful as the rest.


I will stand as one, but not a lonely soul.

The tears will be far from my smile.


Myrna is a resident of HOME shelter, and wrote this poem as part of a creative writing class


By: Bhing Navato


I can’t talk, I can’t hear..

But it doesn’t mean , I am not here.

I can’t see, but I can feel you.

My hands are my eyes, I can still see you through.



I cannot think properly.

My mind is a twister, nobody wants talks to me

But when you guide me, I can do things properly.

Just be patient , determination  is what I have in me.



I used to feel I’m useless.

I cannot do anything, I’m filled with sadness

Life is hard , I don’t see any goodness in me,

I wanted to end my life, to be free of misery



Then one day, seeing others in the same situation as me,

Made me realized how precious our lives can be.

It was not my fault, that I was born like this,

Nor an accident should be blamed for taking away my perfect bliss.



You don’t see my strength, all you see is my disability

You don’t see my willingness to prove  that I have ability

You look at me with disgust, feel annoyed out of the blue.

Laughing from a distance, make fun of everything I do.



Look into my strength, not on what you think is my weakness

I don’t need your pity, Provide me my happiness

Allow me to work so I can live my life with dignity..

Do not judge me based on my capability.



Does anybody here, who is perfect, please let me know..

Does anyone of you here who has no flows?

Take away all  discrimination

Accept  my imperfections.



Nobody is perfect, that’s who we are.

We are unique in our own ways, , even from afar.

Do not judge me base on what you see.

Look at me with equality, be compassionate with me.



I am here, you can see me.Visible clearly to your naked eyes

I am here, you can hear me.I’m loud enough to let you hear my cries.

My disability might be a disturbance to you,

But I am here, I need your acceptance too.


This  poem was made by help desk volunteer Bhing. This was her entry at the HUMAN WRITES competition for the month of April which has a theme of “disability rights”