Diasporas Diverging and Converging

Diaspora, the First
a word that
flows like honey
from the mouths of
Intellectuals
and leaves their
tongues tasting
of bitter vinegar

Their stories—
My stories—
Our stories—
Converged together
One.

Diaspora, the Second
a word that 
diverged from 
the First, that
morphed into 
a new force

A power, exerted 
upon me: 
An Oppression 
just for me
It tightened the noose
round the neck of 
beliefs I thought were
infinite, universal:
A Mother’s Love
and it strangled me
until I lost
every breath 

And like the First 
I was forced
into a craft
that bounced upon
a great big ocean
I’d seen for the first time
while bound 
in chains unbreakable
towards a living death 
that no one 
should have to bear

An ocean path
breaking me 
from the earth I walked, 
from the spirits I praised
and bowed me under 
something 
more oppressive
and cruel
and lonely
and desperate

And like the First 
I had to build anew
under a yoke 
forced upon 
my shoulders

And like those before me
I had to overcome
to escape to new places
to believe in new things

To change.
To change.
To change.
To change.
To change.

Until what I was forced
to leave behind
stung a little less
until what I realized 
was never mine
broke me no more. 

And I became.