Warsan Shire's "Home," though never formally published in a collection of poetry, has reached millions of readers. The poem, which captures the pain and trauma of the refugee experience, has gone viral multiple times in response to the global refugee crises of the 21st century. Using a powerful second-person perspective that puts readers right in refugees' shoes, "Home" strives to offer insight into the suffering that drives refugees from their homes, and also forcefully debunks the myth of the burdensome refugee. In doing so, "Home" makes the case for treating refugees with dignity, sympathy, and compassion.
The speaker, talking about what makes people become refugees, declares that nobody flees their home unless that home has become a shark's mouth—a dangerous place ready to consume them.
The speaker goes on to detail the violence and terror that pushes people to flee from their own countries—such as when they realize that everyone around them is fleeing too, some people even more quickly than they are, running so fast that it makes their breath painful and ragged. They flee when regular people—like a boy from school with whom they snuck a kiss—take up huge weapons and join in the fighting. In short, people only become refugees when they have no other choice.
The violence and horror of these people's homes push them out, lighting a fire beneath their feet and filling them with the intense, urgent need to escape.
People never even dream of fleeing their homes until the threat of being killed is immediate and undeniable, like a hot knife at their neck. And even then, people don't want to go: they still feel tied to their homes, whispering their national anthems to themselves and holding onto their passports until the last possible moment, when they reach the airport. Then, they cry deeply while tearing their passports up and swallowing the pieces, knowing full well that this means they can never return to their homelands.
Those who have never had to become refugees must understand, the speaker says, that people don't simply risk their own children's lives by trying to cross international waters unless that dangerous journey by sea is still safer than the chaos and violence of the land left behind.
Refugees don't willingly put themselves through the pain and horror of trying to escape unless they absolutely have to do so; no one lets the skin get scraped off their palms while hanging on to the underside of a moving train, or agrees to be locked for weeks or months inside a smuggler's truck, unless every mile placed between themselves and their dangerous homelands is worth the immense pain of the journey. Refugees don't want to have to crawl under border fences and walls, or to be abused by border patrol guards, police, or angry citizens. They don't want other people to feel sorry for them.
Refugees don't just decide that they want to live in uncomfortable refugee camps, undergo invasive strip searches, or be imprisoned—if it weren't for the fact that a camp or prison is safer than the war-ravaged place left behind, or the fact that being raped by one foreign prison guard is preferable to being gang-raped by a group of their fellow countrymen.
Nobody could survive all this horror, the speaker insists; nobody would be strong enough to withstand all this unless they had to.
No one would swallow having racist insults and slurs hurled at them in the countries where they settle, where they're called dirty and uncivilized and told to go home or that they're lazy and just trying to freeload. Refugees put up with their new neighbors believing that their homeland's horror is the refugees' own fault, and that they've come to inflict the same chaos on these new countries. How do refugees deal with all this hatred, the speaker asks? They deal with it because it's still better than having a body part blown off by a bomb in their war-torn home countries.
Even this abuse is gentler than being raped by a group of men back home. Taunts and insults are easier to handle than witnessing your home be completely destroyed, your friends and family killed, and your child blown to bits. The speaker wants to go home but can't because home is incredibly dangerous—it'd be like walking into a shark's mouth or in front of a loaded gun. Again, the speaker insists, people don't just up and leave home unless that home drives them away with its violence and terror, making them flee as fast as they can, leaving all their belongings behind, and struggle through the harsh desert and vast ocean in order to find safety. People only put themselves through nearly drowning, losing everything, starving, and begging when their literal survival is on the line.
People don't become refugees until their home itself tells them they have to escape right now. They leave only when home has become utterly unrecognizable, and when they'd be safer anywhere else.
“Home” is a poem about the desperation that drives people to become refugees. The speaker pulls no punches in describing the violence, chaos, and suffering that pushes people from their homelands. And through such horrific details, the poem illustrates how the choice to flee one’s home is a gut-wrenching one, reached only when the many, many dangers of leaving pale in comparison to the dangers of staying. Using a second-person point-of-view that places readers squarely within the refugee perspective, “Home” makes the case that people only leave home when they truly have no other option.
The speaker emphasizes the fact that refugees cherish their homes and mourn their loss in order to hammer home just how difficult the decision to flee can be. The speaker describes a refugee “sobbing” as they tear up their passport, for example, illustrating the grief that accompanies knowing they can never return to the world they came from. The speaker also refers several times to refugees’ fond memories of home—mentioning, for instance, “the boy you went to school with / who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory”—and even explicitly states at one point, “i want to go home.”
Unfortunately, going home is not an option, as the poem also makes clear. The speaker insists over and over again that refugees have no choice but to leave their homelands, however much they may wish to stay. These beloved places are now rife with warfare, rape, and destruction, and have undergone such brutal transformations that the speaker can only use metaphor (home is "the mouth of a shark") to attempt to describe what they've become.
Refugee life is dangerous too, the speaker emphasizes, describing the terrifying journeys that refugees endure, as well as the terrible conditions of the camps and detention centers that take them in. Nevertheless, the speaker argues that all the horrors of being a refugee fall far short of the danger of staying home—a fact that illustrates the depth of such migrants' desperation. In short, the poem shows that refugees’ decision to leave home is no casual choice, but a painful, disorienting last resort driven by grave danger and appalling violence.
In addition to capturing the pain of the refugee experience, “Home” also depicts the difficult circumstances that refugees confront when they finally do reach a place of comparative safety. Having already endured terrible trauma, resettled refugees now face mistreatment and misunderstanding in their adoptive countries. This abuse includes both personal and political attacks that demonize migrants as dangerous and burdensome, “dirty immigrants” who bring trouble with them to their new homes. The poem links this abuse to xenophobia, racism, and a fundamental failure to understand what actually drives refugees from their homes.
Remembering a long list of taunts and insults, the speaker makes clear that many people are deeply cruel to the refugees seeking safety in their countries. This mistreatment is in part because they perceive refugees as menaces and burdens, “sucking our country dry.” In other words, people assume that refugees go to other countries because they’re lazy and want to take advantage of those countries’ social safety nets. Juxtaposed against the immense horror that the speaker says refugees go through in order to make it to those countries, such ideas seem utterly absurd.
This mistreatment is also in part because of plain old racism, as the speaker makes clear when recalling statements like “go home blacks,” “savage,” and “they smell strange.” The speaker is referencing the fact that many refugees are people of color coming into Western countries where they must often contend with deep-seated racial bigotry.
In response to all this cruelty, the speaker offers a simple plea: “You have to understand […] no one leaves home” unless they have no other choice. The repetition of this phrase—“no one could take it / no one could stomach it / no one skin would be tough enough”—hammers home the poem’s message that those who demonize refugees fail to understand the real impossibility of their circumstances.
In insisting that “no one”—implicitly including the citizens of those lands to which refugees flee—would put themselves through all this unless they absolutely had to, the speaker highlights the stunning lack of empathy at the heart of the bigotry, racism, and xenophobia that the poem’s refugees face: after all, if people did understand, then how could they possibly be so cruel? Refugees, the speaker implores, deserve nothing but compassion.
no one leaves ...
... of a shark
"Home" opens with a vivid metaphor:
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
The comparison of "home," typically a place of safety and belonging, to a deadly predator makes a powerful impression. Though these lines do not actually reference refugees, their message, and the central theme of the poem, is clear right away: people don't leave home unless staying has become extremely dangerous—like sitting in a shark's mouth. The diacope of the word "home"—repeated twice in the space of as many lines—add emphasis to this idea of a familiar, welcoming space suddenly transforming into just the opposite.
The sounds of these lines make them all the more striking and memorable. Note all those /l/, /n/, and /m/ sounds:
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
This consonance adds intensity to the speaker's language. Though the poem doesn't use a steady meter, rhyme scheme, or even standard punctuation, devices like this fill it with a sense of cohesiveness and music.
Finally, these lines also establish the authority of the poem's speaker. The confidence in the speaker's voice and the boldness of this opening compels readers to keep going. This authority plays a key role in the speaker's (and the poem's) ability to make a case on behalf of refugees' welfare and worthiness.
you only run ...
... in their throats
Unlock all 245 words of this analysis of Lines 3-6 of “Home,” and get the Line-by-Line Analysis for every poem we cover.
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Get LitCharts A+the boy you ...
... let you stay.
no one leaves ...
... your neck
and even then ...
... be going back.
you have to ...
... than the land
no one burns ...
... pitied
no one chooses ...
... like your father
no one could ...
... be tough enough
the ...
... mess up ours
how do the ...
... in pieces.
i want to ...
... is more important
no one leaves ...
... safer than here
References to the sea appear several times throughout the poem, either implicitly through metaphors like "mouth of a shark" or in explicit contrast with the shore or the land. The sea's constantly changing nature symbolizes the uncertainty and danger that refugees face when they embark on their treacherous journeys to safety.
The following lines make this contrast explicit, as the speaker implores readers:
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
Here, the sea's symbolic association with danger and fear plays an important role in emphasizing just how dangerous the otherwise (seemingly more constant) land is. However uncertain and challenging the sea may be, it offers something the land cannot: a chance of escape and freedom.
When the speaker says, "and even then you carried the anthem under / your breath," this is a subtle reference to the national anthem of this refugee's country. More broadly, this anthem symbolizes refugees' deep, personal attachment to their homelands.
This attachment persists despite the fact that these homelands have become dangerous places, so dangerous that refugees are forced to leave. As such, this person sings this song under their breath even though they are in an airport, either bound for or having just landed in a foreign nation. The anthem remains a touchstone for this refugee—perhaps the only touchstone of home that remains, since, as the poem describes, they are humming it under their breath at the same time that they tear up their passport, their last physical tie to their home.
"Home" originated as a spoken word poem, and like much oral poetry, relies heavily on repetition to create musicality and meaning. The most common repetitive device here is anaphora. There are a few different versions of anaphora throughout the poem, but the most prominent is the repetition of the phrase "no one" (and sometimes the longer "no one leaves home"), which opens the poem and appears again and again.
This phrase becomes a kind of refrain, and it plays an important role in delivering the poem's message: that people only become refugees when they truly have no other option. Each time the speaker asserts that "no one would leave home / unless home chased you," or "no one crawls under fences / no one wants to be beaten," or simply, "no one could take it," it implicitly reminds readers that they themselves are included in that "no one" and would never willingly undergo such suffering. Thus, this repetition insists, the people who do endure these traumas only do so because they must, and they deserve understanding and empathy.
The poem includes other instances of anaphora as well, such as the repetition of the word "than," as in:
than rubble
than bone
than your child's body
These moments not only add to the poem's message, underscoring the traumas that refugees may endure, but they also add to the poem's compelling rhythm. The reiteration of the same phrases over and over again gives the poem a sense of forward momentum, as well as a claustrophobic or inescapable sonic quality, which helps capture the dire straits that refugees find themselves in against their will.
Unlock all 233 words of this analysis of Alliteration in “Home,” and get the poetic device analyses for every poem we cover.
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Get LitCharts A+Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
A song associated with a specific country or group.
"Home" does not follow a fixed or traditional form, and does not use a consistent rhyme scheme or meter. It consists of 11 stanzas that vary widely in length, from two lines to 24 lines, which in turn can run anywhere from one to 13 words long.
"Home" is a prime example of contemporary 21st-century spoken word poetry, a modern form that builds on the ancient traditions of oral poetry and relies heavily on the poet's live performance of the work, particularly the rhythm of their language to heighten emotion and extend poetic meaning.
In fact, "Home" has never been officially published, and thus there is no definitive written-down version of the poem. However, when transcribed, it becomes clear that formal poetic techniques like enjambment, anaphora, and parallelism play a large role in giving the poem its structure and shape, both orally and on the page.
"Home" was written in free verse, which means it does not adhere to any strict meter. Instead, its rhythms vary from line to line and stanza to stanza. As a result, the poem feels free-flowing and unpredictable, the speaker varying the pace and emphasis throughout.
"Home" does not use a consistent rhyme scheme. Instead, the poem is written in free verse and uses devices like anaphora, assonance, and alliteration to lend it a sense of free-flowing music and rhythm.
That said, there is a striking moment of end rhyme towards the poem's middle section:
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
This is perhaps the most oft-quoted part of the poem, which may be due as much to the musicality of those rhyming lines as the powerful image they contain.
The speaker of "Home" is never named or clearly identified but is obviously someone very familiar with the refugee experience. The fact that the poem is written in the second person thrust the reader into that experience as well.
This second-person perspective also allows for the speaker to create a universal voice, incorporating a multitude of different refugee experiences under the shared umbrella of one "you"—from those refugees who "crawl through the desert" to those who "wade through the oceans" in order to reach safety.
At the same time, the "you" also enables the speaker to directly address the reader, as in moments like, "you have to understand." This is also the case when the speaker uses the third person to admonish the reader, emphasizing again and again that "no one leaves home" unless given no other choice. The "no one" to whom the speaker refers includes not only refugees but also implicitly refers to readers who are not refugees. In other words, the speaker speaks on behalf of everybody while stressing the horrors of the circumstances and choices that refugees face.
Finally, the speaker does occasionally lapse into first-person, acknowledging a singular voice directing the course of the poem and offering its most vulnerable admissions: "i want to go home" and "i don't know what i've become / but i know that anywhere / is safer than here."
The setting of "Home" varies throughout the poem. One key location, of course, is "home" itself—the place that refugees flee from and later miss and mourn. Though the speaker dedicates many lines to describing home, especially by recounting memories from this place (such as "the boy you went to school with / who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory"), the speaker stops short of explicitly giving "home" a name or precise location.
This technique of evoking but never specifying the setting is used often in the poem in order to represent the many different places from which refugees across the globe originate, as well as the many different types of journeys they undertake to reach safety. For instance, some lines describe different modes of transportation that migrants take, from trains to boats to planes. The places they travel to are in turn depicted as refugee camps, prisons, and foreign countries where refugees are made to feel unwelcome.
By including such a wide variety of settings, while also never explicitly naming them, the speaker essentially makes the case that setting does not matter—refugees endure the same degree of trauma and suffering no matter where they come from or where they are going. In short, by never pinning the poem down to a specific setting, the speaker is able to encompass a broader, more universal refugee experience.
Warsan Shire is part of a wave of contemporary writers, many of them people of color, capturing the experiences of displacement, migration, and assimilation (or lack thereof) in the postcolonial West. An immigrant to the United Kingdom from Kenya, she is the daughter of Somali parents who fled their home country as refugees. Shire cites family, friends, and immigrants and refugees whom she has personally met as her biggest influences.
Her work can also be compared to that of other first- and second-generation immigrant poets, particularly women, like Suheir Hammad, Yrsa Daley-Ward, Aria Aber, Sharif Solmaz, and Safia Elhillo. These writers, like Shire, often pay attention to the intersection of patriarchy and misogyny with racism and xenophobia.
Shire has a background in spoken word, a form of contemporary poetry intended for performance and drawn frequently to issues of social justice, politics, race, and community. Her poetry is also often character-driven, striving to tell the stories of immigrants and refugees whose voices are often flattened or outright ignored in contemporary media. Her spoken word poetry was even included in Beyonce's visual album, Lemonade.
Shire drafted an earlier poem titled "Conversations about home (at a deportation centre)" in 2009 after meeting refugees in a Somali embassy in Rome. That poem, too, focuses on the trauma and terror of the refugee experience, and the ways in which refugees are mistreated and misunderstood by mainstream society.
There are a few different versions of "Home" on the internet, each with slightly different language.
Warsan Shire's "Home" first went viral in response to the tragic drowning of Alan Kurdi, a three-year-old Syrian boy. The photograph of his body, washed up on a Turkish beach, not only drew renewed attention to Syria's civil war and refugee crisis, but it also prompted the fierce online circulation of Shire's poem as people sought to explain and justify the dangerous journey that resulted in Kurdi's death. "no one puts their children in a boat / unless the water is safer than the land" became a rallying cry on behalf of refugees.
Indeed, Shire's poem has become a touchstone in response to multiple moments in what has become broadly known as the 21st-century global refugee crisis. Currently, around 80 million people worldwide have been displaced by war, violence, and environmental destruction, the largest number since immediately after World War II. In other words, 1 in every 95 people on earth has fled their home. The sheer magnitude of this crisis has created vast challenges, from finding solutions to the crises driving people from home to addressing xenophobia and bigotry in countries where refugees often resettle.
Behind these statistics, of course, are millions of individual stories. Shire's poem seeks to—and many would say, succeeds—in giving those people and stories a voice.
Warsan Shire's Biography — Read about the poet's life and work.
The Writing Life of Warsan Shire — An in-depth profile of poet Warsan Shire in The New Yorker magazine.
Poetry on the Refugee Crisis — Five young poets, including Warsan Shire, reflect on the refugee experience.
The Poem Out Loud — Listen to a powerful, illustrated performance of the poem read by the poet herself.
The Refugee Crisis — Information on the global refugee crisis, provided by the International Rescue Committee.