I am here,

but not

from

here.

Roots,

plucked

up.

Heart,

held

close.

To

protect.

Me.

I

yearn

to

belong.

To

the people.

To

the land.

To

the waters.

But,

where

do

I

plant

my

words

when

the

earth

does

not

recognise

me.

Anymore.

— Wanderer.

{A poem on being an immigrant, returned to the land of my forefathers. A poignant journey of loss and gain.}