16, new country, big dreams

This place is not my village

New scene, between what I knew and don’t know, what does this mean for me?

My humble home once hugged by trees and greens

Is now surrounded by busy streets and rowdy screams I do not understand

No longer in a place I can fastly trace the paths that would lead me to branches’ nurturing bosoms that brought me mangoes, five finger, sugar apple, and tangerines

Here as I am, who I am

I enter the unforeseen, for there’s a new four that I see

2 sisters, mother per diem, Door open maybe I’m in need, step-father, new family

Will I see things in a different lens, different frames, a different screen

My tongue seems too thick to gleam, but the dumbbells of syllabells, I mean syllables that roll and tumble, heavy bowling balls with a chance that sinks into the floor it fell on

I receive a tense furrowed brow each time like a routine automated response from like-minded machines

It doesn’t soar into the air, weightless, to beat the drums of one’s listening that will syncopate my polyrhythmic speech

16, new country, big dreams

This place is not my village

Now who will I be?