We had goose bumps on our chocolate skin
because we weren’t well dressed for the weather
We didn’t think about clothes when we fled motherland
on aluminum wings
We had sunlight and rain
and crazy kings who turned our lands to killing fields
We wanted fat flies and rottenness tossed in the past
And then freedom from that stench that clenched our stomachs
and forced us to give
We longed for silence and a break from violence
We wanted an end to gunshots
Our flight was for liberty from the language of death
We had goose bumps on our cocoa skin
because we never saw ourselves living in days without sun
We didn’t have bad dreams of us
twisting into new shapes,
living better than slaves for a pleasing picture for strangers,
talking about our homes in new tongues
like devotees of foreign gods
