Like an uprooted tree
whose roots point towards the sky
burnt and scorched by the sun,
barely alive
touching the earth and touching the sky,
yet not at home in either
not knowing how to breathe

I grew up between the worlds
in one that was not my own,
and not knowing how my own was
wandering as a stranger
whereever I would go
truly at home nowhere
uprooted and transplanted
and not taking hold

In a culture not my own
and that didn’t want me
but not knowing which would be my own
struggling inbetween the known
and the taken away
called N*gg**
and, „only a dead one is a good one“
called thief, slave, liar, thug,
Uncle Tom
the dark skin beneath the
forced veneer of whiteness

I know where my heart has always beaten
where my soul started to sing
even though it was made off-limits
where I was drawn to be
to which savors,
which beats,
which songs –
no matter how much they said
that it was of the devil

not knowing my roots,
the culture, the speak –
yet i can still listen to the song
feel its heartbeat
– makes new leaves grow
and the sun
that grows new roots into the earth
no pretentions
but a sense of being
being on the way