A Post-colonial Reconstruction of Diaspora
Chapter One: To forget what I remember
It was the month afterThe monsoon rainsThe day we leftIn the darkIn the dark… like thieves onThe back of a truckWe left in the dark
We were ready to leave.Our bags were packedWe stepped on the gangplankBetween water and landBetween water and land we’d stayBetween water and land…For the rest of our livesFor the rest of our livesWhat lives?
Between land and waterThere is no going backSem retorno
You are not authenticated to view the full text of this chapter or article.
This site requires a subscription or purchase to access the full text of books or journals.
Do you have any questions? Contact us.Or login to access all content.