The Foreigner

Waking up to you is like discovering a foreign place.

I trace every birthmark on your skin to find your face.

I was a vast land, long forgotten and claimed my none.

Curious eyes reached beyond the horizon, it had begun.

Your finger tips spark a flame beneath my stones.

Burning lips kiss my soil and ignite my bones. 

The curvature of my mountains, the depths of my caves.

You've unveiled all of me, down to my ocean's waves.

Truth be told, the scars on my surface were carved by man.

A man that tore my roots, devoured my fruit, and ran.

Thank you my dearest kind foreigner, for what you've done.

Never leave my side, burn me alive with your distant sun.  

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741