Exile of the Night

Exile I am, child of

Brown lands

Brown skins

Brown memories

Brown songs.

Now, my dreams are white,

The white of my sorrowing soul

In this white land

Strange and estranged.

The dreams come to visit me

In each sleep.

They tell me of

White hopes and prayers

And white justice.

Ay, but even the language of my sleep

Is the white's English, the rolled R's

Fail to form in my lips.

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

Gardena/Los Angeles, CA


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