On this land I have

not stolen a thing but I

will be a thief.

On this land

I don’t ever speak

Their language. 

​

On this land I am marked colored

yet not made colored to the order;

Most of the time I feel

the least colored: to be

transparent.

On this land I get asked

questions that are too simple,

having answers that are too complex.

On this land it seems like I

can choose; yet always

pushed.

​

On this land I get looks for taking

up “too much” space; This one

does not stun me, for I have been

a woman. 

​

On this land they think I

can always go back to where

I came from;

Where there only wants

clay pigeons

for a peace show, yet

I can fly.