A Perfect Misfit
The terrains have changed to something I do not recognise anymore.
My mind knows I have been here before yet my body reject everything of its existence.
I have been here before, happy, filled with laughter and less worries, yet thus land is so foreign.
I cannot seem to recall the language spoken, I am tongue tied as i try to converse with the natives, my people, those of my kind.
This land is so foreign, every bit of my body cringes as I step on the soil, yet this is the very soil I have baked mud cakes with growing up, the very soil I build my house with.
This land is so foreign.
I have all the great memories of this place, yet it’s foreign as I don’t even recognise my own friends who I grew up with.
This land is so foreign, as my own family seem to be a miss place, this land is so foreign as the family connection is lost.
This land is so foreign; my body refuses the blood transfusion of those of my kind, my blood type.
This land is foreign as every ounce of my body want to runaway yet my heart is so in love with this place and my people.
This land is so foreign, as nothing seems to fit in.
I have become a stranger within my land, as everything I do is so strange and does not resemble of those I grew up with
This land is so foreign; my every being refuses to be part of the circle of those of my likeness.
This land is so foreign that I get trapped in my own space, with no room to breathe nor a window to escape; to show face of my existence.
This land is so foreign, for it seems like I have been deleted from memories, my childhood marks have disappeared into thin, and no trace of me ever being here.
This land is so foreign, as my heart breaks at every thought of what I have missed out throughout the years
This land is so foreign, as the old are decaying and the young are forgetful, with no knowledge of my existence.
This land is so foreign, as the truth is being buried every day, hour, minutes, seconds that pass by. The truth shall be no more as no one want to voice out and seek peace.
This land is foreign, tears dripping as I’m the long lost piece of the puzzle, which doesn’t fit any more to this new puzzle bought.
This land is so foreign, as my wounds heal every day, my scars fade every day, my marks are no longer seen, my voice no longer heard.
I have become a stranger within my land.
By: T. Sibiya