I imagine you at my age
Younger, stronger and ambitious
You literally cracked your spine
Once healed, cracked again by soil foreign  
That bore you no fruit
But fruit were born from the womb
Of the love of your life

I imagine you had it all
But poverty was placed between your eyes
Tried to go back home
Catch the dream you once had
Build a home your children could inherit
But all they wanted, was to snuggle in your strength
Listen to a strong heartbeat
Reading them nursery rhymes

Tears begin to flood my vision
When I realise, your life
Is mirror to my own
I inherited recycled dreams and hope
From a land that bore me no fruit
When all I wanted, was to inherit extra time with you
Snuggle in your strength
And listen to lullabies

Where are you from?
My answer is
Does it matter?
This question requires a five part answer

Where are you from?
When you say from?
Do you mean -
The road travel by me or my mom?

Where are you from?
If I say Somalia?
Will you leave it there?
Or ask me if I belong to the north, east or the south?  

Where you from, your accent is unfamiliar?
I know, language is imperative
when you're lost.

Where are you from?
The answer is nowhere
I am stranger to places
no matter where I call home.

"Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart"
These words from her Somali tongue
nine thousand miles away
can travel the speed of light

"It's okay. sweetheart"
Feeds the pit of my stomach
lulls the unease to sleep
only a mother can provide

"Just take care of yourself, hooyo"
Passes her lips and into my spine
new roots planting itself,
safely into the ground

A ****** midwestern Somali
was feeling and acting quite jolly.
This homegrown jihadi
employed his own body
in hacking (not cyber). Thanks, Ali.