Then I moved to Australia, and I was a different kind of white My accent gave me away Yet again, I was an “other” Realizing that as humans we always find a way to target someone who’s different
Violence worked for protection And admittance to certain groups So it became my survival tool Till it landed me in prison Like my father… I certainly didn’t disappoint the predicted cycle of trauma
That was all a long time ago now Almost another life It used to have such a strong hold on me Now it’s grasp has softened And I’m slipping free into the new me
One that isn’t identified by any name One that just is One that is a father One that has a son One that is ending the cycle of trauma One that is showing up to his Dharma
