The Emigree

• there once was a country... i left it as a child but my memory of it is sunlight-clear
• filled paperweight
• it may be sick with tyrants , but i am branded by an impression of sunlight.
• the childs vocabulary i carried here
• they accuse me of absence, they circle me, they accuse me of being dark in their free city.
• they mutter death, and my shadow falls as evidence of sunlight