Being a hybrid, Africa and Europe are asking with concern that part of me belongs to either.
I am the child presented the sword of Solomon for equitable division.
Permanent exile, I spend my nights to weld the tracks that lead to identity.
The writing is warm wax that I dug furrows in particular by manufacturers of watertight compartments of the two fields.
They checked the scar where men, drawing borders, have hurt the earth of God.

Fatou Diome