MIGRATORY MAN

Unusual is the hand
That can count backwards
The name of the original land
That birthed its ancestors forwards

Every many generations the slate is wiped clean
You think you are there where you always have been
But most every native is a fruit of some old migrant tree
That forgot its deep roots in some distant ancient century
And some disappeared Country.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

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