Sometimes I wonder if you would take me back
Or if you would spit me out, turn your back on me and command I leave,
Disgusted by my audacity to claim your heritage
Sickened by the nerve to finally come home and expect a party.
Sometimes I wonder if you think of me as a foreigner;
A child who left, by choice, the sanctuary of your embrace.
Would you look at me?
Would you embrace me?
Would I be welcome?
Or have I shamed you?
Have I shamed you by not coming back in all these years?
Have I shamed you by allowing my accent to change?
Have I shamed you by making friends who are like family in this place?
Or have I made you proud as an ambassador of your offspring?
Africa, would you let me in, if I came home tonight?
