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A Colonized Mind
In the chambers where thoughts are supposed to
roam free, Foreign voices echo, not belonging to me.
Words planted like flags on conquered territory,
Thoughts that flower in soil not my own.
I speak in tongues my ancestors never knew,
See through lenses ground by hands I never touched.
My dreams are shaped by stories I did not choose,
Yet they feel like home—this borrowed architecture of mind.
Each mirror shows a face divided by history,
Each thought arrives pre-weighted, pre-judged.
I sift through my beliefs like archeological remains,
Wondering which are artifacts of occupation.
The borders of my thinking are invisible chains,
Drawn by mapmakers who never asked permission.
Yet in the margins of these imposed paragraphs,
I find spaces where resistance takes root.
For even a colonized mind can question its borders,
Can recognize the foreign footprints across its landscape.
And in that recognition lies the seed of reclamation—
The first step toward a sovereignty of thought.????????????????
Copyright ©
Christen Foster
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