Immigrant

Have you ever thought out loud,
Or had an earnest inner conversation with the self of one
By asking where do I come from?
And where do I really fit in
Into this grander scheme of things in life
‘twas I blessed or passed over?
To inherit the genes of heroes, conquerors,
And climbers of unscalable peaks,
Or was my lineage of something else,
A prisoner condemned for one’s beliefs,
Or a slave in ankle shackles
To a pompous, cruel master.

What is more, why did my family
make it all this way here
After traveling for many, many days onboard
A wooden four-masted sailing boat
And with the great skill of the master
It was he who conquered the roaring forties,
To make it all the way
And at the end of the day
My family did indeed come from another motherland
Which lay way beyond a far-distance horizon
And with them, they brought sought-after skills
To a country that needed them the most.

So I have in earnest thought as I write this prose
This is my history,
My story,
My ancestry,
I know exactly where I belong,
And from somewhere else I’ve come from,
For I am the child,
The daughter,
The son,
The grandchild,
I am now an immigrant to Terra Australis.