A Poem for the Romani

Romani Woman — Photo by Ben Nehring from Bens Viewfinder

Wagons stick easily in mud,
But we have miles to go,
Our destination, wherever will have us,
Only then for as long as they will

They call us Gypsy, a lie,
We are Roma; The People,
We built no pyramids,
We worshipped no Pharoah

Unwanted everywhere,
Home the roads between yours,
So we will always go anywhere,
Our community, our caravan

We are music, we’re dance,
we’re builders and mystics,
enslaved and reviled,
when our novelty ran dry

Our history’s shared secrets,
we whisper only to each other,
hidden deep in our songs,
too much lost on our way

Written by

I’m a Developer, Activist, Husband & Father. Romani descendant. Find me on Twitter @Ryan_Nehring or email at nehring.ryan@gmail.com. Top writer in Politics.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store