Poem: Where Is Home?

I write poems about the loss of myself,

As if I ever truly knew what it meant to lose your identity,

When I never really had pride in it,

When I gave it up at the young age of 18

And became an American citizen.

I felt no remorse cutting ties to my ancestors.

I felt liberated in the land of the free.

I was finally free of being labeled a terrorist.

I was free of being seen as a threat.

This is what happens

When you don’t visit your motherland for 15 years.

This is what happens

When you’re a product of your environment.

I’ve become disconnected from my own.

It’s no wonder I feel closer to other people.

But who do I belong to,

When neither home-land accepts me as a native?