OUR MOON
Can I keep my children from their need to belong?
From knowing coiled chongololos, inswa, the smell of wet soil,
of incense and garbas, nshima and chicken curry.
They live under city lights. endless towers,
Hong Kong, Chengdu, Bangkok and our island of broken dreams.
They roam free, disconnected, and they pine for more;
who am I? Do I belong? They ask me.
Our Moon unites us, it rises, in the shared night sky shines
the same light on us all, regardless of what, how, where or who we call home.