A Foreign Being

It’s a division of the heart, sir

If I could, I would make myself whole

I would

Your laws bar my way

My will keeps being tread on

There is no door to escape this alienation

You try to quell dissent

And yeah, sometimes, it works

But dontcha worry tired limbs and sore throats

Still move

Still sound

It’s not go back where you came from

It’s my mother’s womb is gone

It’s my home is concrete Philly streets and corner stores

And the sunshine speckled olive trees of my parent’s arid land

It is a cleaving of identity

If I could go back, I would

I would

Do you understand now?

But your ancestors laid waste to themselves, didn’t they?

Cut away, buried, and conformed

And finally assimilated a generation or two down

And now parts of yourself are missing

You don’t even know which ones

But you feel it

Like I do

But I take this ache

And, and ask, can you feel a split heart?

What about a break in self?

Did you ever have to force a being?