Sunday, November 26, 2006


I see green,
lined with movements everywhere,
and I ask myself if this is really home.

Do I see my soul in it?
Would I die for it?
Would I find my ancestors
dwelling in this same strange land?

Or have they eloped to a place
never to taste race?
never to uncover blood deep inside our Mother's womb?
never to swallow made up myths of memories?

never to ever to?

But maybe one day I'll find them here,
Maybe I could still find home,
For I still feel goosebumps forming on my skin
as each passing hot wind
beckons me to stay.