Conversations [A Stranger]
I don’t know when the worn-out paths became strangers
and the strangers became so familiar
When did our conversations once so rich in meaning
Full of aches, arguments and laughter
became predictable
And our closeness turned into an awkward construct natured by nostalgia
When did the language of my youth became so difficult to recall
Its poetry eludes me now
I want to sing about the shades of colours and emotions
But my expressions are barren
When did I lose myself on the path between longing and hope
In the fear of being inadequate or misunderstood
When did the pasts collide
And we found ourselves entangled in a net or differences
That weren’t there before
Who am I now
When I don’t know my language anymore
When my history altered by the turmoil of change
Is no longer shared
And your history is not mine yet
When your language is still a stranger in my mouth
In my ears
I was once like a dandelion seed
Happily dancing on the wind of youth
In the land that I did not grow up in
I am torn and rooted at the same time
I am witnessed by the moon
And caressed by the sun
At once the same and yet unfamiliar
In the moments of realisation
I hold on to the bits that are me
Not wanting to let go
Tearing and reconstructing the paper towers of memories
The collages of faces
Paths and places that no longer exists
Words that lost their meanings
And words that I am yet to learn
I am a traveller in time
In history
In space
With the heart and feat at a discord
Out of step with myself
Always on the move
Never settled
A construct of identities as artificial as the borders
I am welcomed and despised
Always a stranger
