Soul in the Margins

Great poem. So honest and sincere. I can sense the longing and sadness, yet also contentment and peace. Great job!



My soul is old as time itself
A thousand past lives or more
But this has never happened
Born in two worlds at once

Roots of damascene jasmine
Grow into eucalyptus leaves
A tree void of identity
A vine with no name

Nameless with no place
I’m a house with no land
I’m a mask with no face
Hovering in suspension

I have sailed the seas
Danced across the skies
The click clack of train tracks
Wanting a place to call home

But when I reached the West
They told me to go back home
So I traveled to the East
They asked me where I’m from

I am brown with skin of white
Belonging only on borders
Unable to return to the homeland
Foreign hands long for disposal

I’ll stand proud in the margins
With all those that are ‘other’
So let them blur the lines
and flood the…

View original post 70 more words


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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