In this life

I wonder sometimes

if I’d become the person I am

if I’d grown up in another house,

in other skins,

under different skies.

..If my heart had grown up with the African sun

or found nourishment by Indian rivers

or fallen asleep in far away furs,

would I still experience life’s basics,

and the magics,

the way I do, in my very own way?

And would this be the only moment

in which privilege and poverty

solemnly agree?