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Patriot

 Love for country. What is it? 

Patriotism? I never would consider myself a patriot in the colloquial sense of the world. 

What is a country? Piece of land, defined by borders, arbitrarily drawn lines, sometimes 'natural', sometimes artificial, constantly in flux yet imagined to be permanent. people dying to safeguard them, to honor them, wasting precious time and resources fighting to uphold what these lines mean to them. Everything I believe in stands against borders. Open borders. No passports or visas. Global citizenship. People of the Earth. That's who I want to be considered amongst. 

Yet.

The pain. Of separation. Cruel parting and forced separation. Our storied become lessons and anecdotes for generations to come. Like my grandmother's story for my friend. What will my story, my life, my lived experience be? Will anyone ever understand it? Will anyone ever be able to access the pain that I live through? The thorns that I walk on every day, as my heart lays restless and the dull throbbing ache becomes a part of every breath.

Every pore of my body aches for the homeland. Is it home anymore? No. But it is the setting of every fond childhood memory, pain, and heartbreak. It's where i learned to write, speak, and think. The land that nurtured me, and cherished me, growing me strong to face the harsh winds of the storm that is life. It sent me out, yet never would have I dreamed that there will be no way back. I do not love everything about Pakistan. In fact, I don't love, or even like most things. I do not belong there. Yet, I do not belong here also. I am a woman without a country. Not that I mind. If only, these borders weren't serving as my cage. And a man I happened to love once, my captor.


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