untitled – sibu masters

By Sibusiso Masters


My new home
should be the homiest home I’ve ever called home
But the mountains and the winds all feel strange
And though the people look like me
We don’t have a lot in common
Germinating with roots in different soil
My climate cold and icy
then hot and wet
Now cool and dry
And I don’t quite know what they’re saying
Speaking in our tongue
that was clipped from my mouth at my mother’s breast
She who took flight
And I, kicked from the nest,
alien to the brood
though of the same feather,
will take wing
and catch fire