The Man Who Came From Everywhere

I walk to the kiosk,

The official staring me down,

Asking me for my passport,

To see where I’ve arrived from.

My crown, I hold high,

Declaring I’m from lands far away.

We chat, and as we get done, I sigh.

For as long as I can remember

Questions repeated have made me wonder,


Why do I feel out of place?

This new environment,

Making me hush and walk astray.

There is no belonging, no feeling.

Whether it’s where I grew up,

Where I was born all blown up,

Or the place my roots were made up.

My sense of belonging all mucked up,

As I gasp for an identity in this list of complexities.

But here, here is where I stay.

To lay my arms and find

A way through this hinterland,

Searching for serenity.

Exploring the avenues of minds like mine,

Who come from places afar like me.

As you and I find grounds we share alike,

Our past and origin not defining,

What we hold between us sentient life;

When what makes us, many.

And these complexities, these blaring complexities,

They don’t drive me crazy.

For they are relevant to my identity,

The one thing I never possessed entirely.

My difference, actually a reflection of my individuality.

This land I call my Mother, only out of formality,

Needn't be the basis of my originality.

For just like this nation of complexities,

This amalgamation of various identities,

I am one and many, a patron of humanity.


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