I carry your memory
like my own blood—constant and unshakeable.
I hear your voice
like my own language—haunting and historical.
Try as I might to forget,
your face is what I think of when I look at the sun.
Try as they might to flush me out,
you pull me in and I follow you around, I dance to your orbit.
Even my own language echoes yours;
how could I even translate the feeling of escape?
Your country's name is engraved on mine;
how could I ever break free from your chains and jail?
I carry the weight of longing,
chained by the shackles of distance and other strings.
I bear witness to surviving and surpassing,
caged within the cells of reality and perhaps some 2-body problem.
