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.