I don’t know if it is the fact of the language
Or that most of the food doesn’t have any taste
But all the time I see the sky
I just feel like I want to leave.

It’s nothing personal with the people
With the weather or maybe the silence
Yeah that silence that some times kills
And you don’t know where it comes from or how to break it.

Well, I don’t even know
It’s like mi pedasito de tierra is calling me
It’s like the bachata, merengue y yaroa is chasing me.

I don’t even care in fighting with my sister for the remote control
It doesn’t even matter the electricity is gone and it’s so fucking hot
I would rather fight with police all the time because they stole
Our dignity

No matter how many friends I can make here
It’s almost like my body is driving me to DR

Dominican Republic, Quisqueya la bella
A small country that had already suffered from Spain
And United States
But always kept fighting and staying on their feet
Ningún pueblo ser libre merece, si es esclavo, indolente y servil.
But that doesn’t matter when our holidays or weekends are coming in.

We just forget and dance all day and night
We just forgive and give all day and night
We just love and work all day and night.

But when we left the small island
Wherever we go we try to create our small barrio
Creating the perfect mood on a Jane & Finch patio
Where mi gente keep it real to maintain their roots alive.

But at the end,writing1
Will this knowledge follow me?
Al final del camino

Will I be the big woman I ended up being
Al fin
I will never know if what was meant to be
…is the best for me

One what if…
caused me to change my destiny.

by Victoria Mejicano