Poem by: Amira Hatoum

 Illustration by Amil Barlow

Illustration by Amil Barlow

I know they made you feel 

as if this was no longer your home, 

as if you who helped built it 

no longer belonged. 

As if there was not enough room for an entire ocean, 

let alone rivers to simply come and go. 

People stop calling. 

People stop caring. 

People take what's yours 

and say it was always theirs for the taking. 


Tell them 

it was never yours to begin with. 

Tell them 

that what's yours is theirs 

and that you give it to them. 

Turn your head 

and even if your feet drag 

you keep walking, 

I'll tell you this. 

Sometimes you find homes 

out of people and friendships. Yes,

But sometimes 

you find home is where the sky reaches the mountains, wherever there's an empty sky and

nothing for miles but running, running. 


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 Photo by  Tyler Nix

Photo by Tyler Nix

 

Amira Hatoum is a Dominican/Lebanese artist from Miami who currently resides in Los Angeles. She is a talented writer and poet with a love for life and travel.

Marisol de Jesus