The passport

They did not recognize me in the shadows that usurped my color in the passport
And my wound to them was a gallery for a tourist who loves to collect pictures
They did not recognize me
Do not leave my palm without a sun
For the trees recognize who I am
And so do all the songs of the rain
Do not leave me pale as the moon
All the songbirds that followed my palm to the doors of the distant airport
All the wheat fields
All the prisons
All the white graveyards
All the borders
All handkerchiefs that waved
All the eyes
They were all with me
But they have dropped them from the passport
Without a name and without belonging?
To a soil that I have raised with my own hands?
Job screamed today filling up the skies
Do not make an example of me twice
Dear sirs, dear prophetic sirs
Do not ask the trees about their names
Do not ask the valleys about their mother
From my forehead a light shines
And from my hand gushes the river’s water
Peoples’ hearts are my nationality
So please unburden me from this passport