ObservationI did not leave all at once.
Struggling with my mother’s tongue.
Time to cast a vote for the nation that once made me.
Ashamed of my indifference to the choice.
The pull of a place I no longer call home.
But belonging is a quiet thing, shifting where truth prevails.
Here, between what is offered and what is becoming, I watch.
I leave my mark—not on a ballot, but on the map provided.
More part of the network than the nation.
Citizenship of the unseen built upon shared stories.
Maybe that is enough.0.1639%
