the subliminal whisper of english amidst the roar of setswana
the reed that sways rhythmless against all the others and their good time
I can try to blend in as much as I want, but I cannot forget why people are staring at me.
I can try to speak another language, but there are only so many words I can say or understand.
I can try to learn the dance, but if I don't have the rhythm in me, it's only a fleeting thing.
But I continue to will my skin darker so that I won't be noticed,
continue to stretch my limits of understanding so that my thoughts will be heard,
continue to join in the dance: praying that something will stick, that the next day I'll remember, and the next, and the next after that.
24 days and I'm coming home. I'm taking some new things with me, and I'm leaving old parts of me here. I hope you're okay with the change.
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