loving the life i've lived, and hurting through the moments when no one knew me.
home, africa, as i knew it - replete with love friends laughter music happiness and the smells and tastes i know best - is gone.
what i had will never exist in quite the same way again. and since, i have struggled to find it once more, pushed and pulled to tearing the life i have lived so that i might eek out a semblance of what was.
tonight i am a foreigner in the land i am bred from. this place, i am told, is home. i do not remember it. i do not know it. it does not know me. what i see hurts my heart, and fills me with sadness.
the waste. the anger. the selfishness. the silent secret gnawing and empty pain.
where am i from?
i am from my family's heart, i am from where i'm going to, i am from wherever i am.
but i'm weary, and tired of the going going going. the pushing pushing pushing. this world wearies me,
doesn't it weary you?