Re-entering the country
waiting to be let in
my permission
has already been granted

I watch
as bodies
propped up by hairline strings
are scrutinized
knowing those who need entrance the most
may be forced back

Desiring to erase
the insensitive line they stand behind
I feel deep remorse
as the patrollers
greet me with a smile
“Welcome Home!”

But this is not my home
I do not feel comfortable here
in a place that says “NO!”
to those beautiful and ugly hands
broken by your rituals
and tied by your rules

Myself not belonging to your forgetful family

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