In here I’m the permanent outsider
caught in the silence of a civilization.
The color of my skin
casting a shadow
in the eyes of the world
around me.

Eyes averted, eye brows
raised and whispers walking
in the background. I drown
in an ocean of white, streaked
with the black of sleek barriers.

Us and them replace you and me.
Small words become bigger walls as
meanings multiply. Did the Wall
really come down?

The chance of birth and a different stamp is all that
separates them from us. Borders exist in our bodies,
not on shifting sands or on brightly colored maps.

Civilization is for the newspapers and museums,
not for the man in the café who spat in my coffee.

In here, I’m the permanent outsider.