Foreigner
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Hand over heart, head lifted to Old Glory.
A flicker, a single thought, crosses my mind.
I remember, I remember when ash rained down like new fallen snow,
My own country, but I don’t own my land.
I used to put my hand through the orange sand.
My brother and I would count pejig, nij.
And now here I am.
Struggling to connect to a place.
A place my parents called home,
In this foreign land.
I watch a man bathe himself on the sidewalk,