Here I am, with my soul split in two//
one half made of hot sand and the other of foreign concrete.
I speak in two languages, but dream in one, and sometimes I get lost in silences that cannot be translated.
There I am "the one who left."
Here "the one who is not from here"//
I belong everywhere, and I never belonged anywhere.
My roots pull me like waves to the shore//
but my steps have learned to walk without a fixed map.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 2:36 AM UTC
Here I am, with my soul split in two//
one half made of hot sand and the other of foreign concrete.
I speak in two languages, but dream in one, and sometimes I get lost in silences that cannot be translated.
There I am "the one who left."
Here "the one who is not from here"//
I belong everywhere, and I never belonged anywhere.
My roots pull me like waves to the shore//
but my steps have learned to walk without a fixed map.