I am the product of two distant worlds
But my tongue dances with only one
In my dreams, I hear my Mother’s cries
Praying for her lost daughter’s return
I am too much for one country to swallow
But not enough for the other’s acceptance
Yet here I stand, with my heart in the middle
Of a custody battle with unclear intentions
I cannot choose between the two
Without erasing half of my story
I cannot undo all this writing
Stained on my blood and bones
This heart, of plantains and sweet tea,
Fights a war inside her own body
I’m unsure of where to call home
When I’m not wanted by either country

ox brome
laze his
trim and
tire infibulate
below and
water sink
his quinine
if she
arise pain
that spirit
heed the
noxious mud
where gastric
in her
bone only
a Bon
there seed

A girl at 28
with a stable income
and a good academic record
is still considered a failure
just because she is not married

A girl at 20
Doesn't have a degree in anything
Doesn't earn even a cent per month
Is considered successful
Just because she is married

What is in marriage
that society finds it to be the ultimate measure of success?

North African English teachers
Are so rare in Peru;
However, I was sent right there
By the Erasmus - EU.


My adventures didn't even start
When I felt strong unease;
As if I was followed by some,
Some dark and unseen breeze.


My first day was ruined by a bite
Happened in the toilet;
I saw a shade in the mirror,
Then, some tooth and eyelet.


                    ---


On my first day I got injured
That was badly enough;
However, the first day kept me
A night just alike tough.


Knock-knock-knock I heard on my door,
The darkness was shallow;
Knock-knock without answer,
My guest was Diablo.


I'd been never superstitious,
Though, I believed in Jinns;
Just as I was a believer
Of many other things.


                    ---


Knock-knock-knock - for a hundred times,
As if my head was' door;
My fear' fulfilled with angriness,
I faced the corridor.


I got the door slowly ajar,
A black claw might me seize;
I snapped its hand and bring Quran,
"It's time to Exorcise!"


The demon tore the door crying,
Of Quranic verses;
The North African welcoming
Has no demon versus.

A cradle of civilization
          where we walked proudly.

Now a tarnished echo,
         of what we stood


                                  tall from.


A light house of our birth,
                      which showed us

that no matter the distance,

the light always illuminated.
           Dimmed, but we know
            where we came from.


Let the lighthouse shine radiant.
showing  us that this cradle isn't
                                                         broken.

Let it shine brightly and show that Africa
is a lighthouse, a birthplace of humanity
         and let it once again cradle us.

For we were all guided from here.
          This is everyone's birth place.