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To hear me give voice to this piece:
A body in a foreign land.
They think,
my body is foreign land.
So it seems that we are free,
sounds of the chains echo through silence.
Shall we keep turning away
or look to understand?
Projects that sell themselves as progress.
What progress?
Without feeling that’s nonsense.
I stress,
try changing while being tense.
Make yourself familiar with my body,
but don’t domesticate it.
I guess they will say,
if I’m blessed I pray
with eyes wide open.
Watching my back,
make no mistake
I’m hypervigilant to any threat of attack.
Split in two they’ve got me wondering where I belong.
I long to inhabit this land beneath my feet.
I long to be.
Free in this land,
let me repeat.
No nation states or owners.
No lines
but the creases on my skin.
They embrace each part
of this land.
Can’t we understand that this,
this is Us.
This land is Us.
I wish you many blessings as you continue to move deeper into your book writing process ☺️