Golden. Exile.

‘Exile is golden’ Not as I remember. Christmases were cards, deaths; a blue letter

‘You travelled so much’ I’m blacker than thou, the name on the list grounds us somehow

‘You learned to speak English’ But it wasn’t the Queen’s. Bread on the table escaping smashed dreams.

‘Exile is golden’ Not in that small room. Bedtime stories sad memories and doom.

What is your problem. You escaped the dictator. Don’t fill wounds with salt. Don’t be a hater.

Exile is golden. You ran away. Rootless don’t matter or lonely decay.


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