Exilation Not Exhalation

We are called immigrants
like leaving our essence be
hind us
was our choice
a hundred percent
our choice.

so many we hear
say we want to go back

weeping eyes look pon de newcast
of de latest disaster
preventing we from going back

unbearable
buried deep
yearn
we carry
for the land
that witnessed
our birth
first footsteps
tooth
menustration,
etc.

We are not immigrants.
We are exiles forced to migrate
and we always consider home
home;
even though
we going to die here
in a hostile land
that causes our body
and speech to twist
in a rhythm
alien to us
but not to our seeds.