The Border That Followed Me
I crossed the border, but the border stayed. It settled in my accent and my name, In every form I filled, each debt I paid, In every room where strangers played the game
Of asking where I'm really, truly from. As though belonging needed further proof. As though a homeland were a beating drum One carries hidden underneath the roof.
Yet years passed by. The border changed its face. It softened into memory and song. I found that roots are less a single place Than all the places where we learn we're wrong
To think the heart obeys a map's decree. The border followed me—and became me.
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