The dream of return is one that keeps many refugees, displaced, immigrants, and others going. Regardless of the circumstances, sometimes it’s war, sometimes famine, sometimes a dream of a better life. For me, it was a combination of all that. I will return, alive, or a corpse, but I will return! I wrote it when I was having a conversation with some Moroccans, Senegalese, and Nigerians who met in a corner in Spain.
The poem was originally written in Spanish, which is attached at the bottom. Although I’ve preferred to place it at the top, since most of my readers are English speakers, I've made a compromise.
*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
I will return ( a poem) (Translated Version)
Where are my dreams? Where am I?
I have spent years searching for them, chasing them,
Yet still, I do not know where they wander.
I am confused… the person I was, the character I had,
distant shadows in my memory.
But there is something that is never lost:
A soul that lives, that survives,
That knows precisely how to go on.
***
At last, the day will come
When my feet touch my own land.
My land left the door open.
When I was young, I thought it was so I would leave…
But now I know the door is open so that I may return.
It was not a farewell,
But a promise to come back.
And I will return
stronger, more resilient, and more whole—
Like a traveler who has crossed the desert
And still carries golden dust in his eyes.
***
The Sahara neither ends nor begins;
It recognizes no border.
It is one great body in Morocco, Mauritania, Libya, Sudan,
and many lands beyond.
They call it the Great Sahara—
as vast as my dreams,
with moons and stars that guide the wanderer
toward destiny, toward certainty,
toward the reaching of their dreams.
Regresaré (Versión Original)
¿Mis sueños dónde están? ¿Dónde estoy yo?!
Ya llevo años buscándolos y persiguiéndolos
Pero aun así no sé por dónde andan
Estoy confundido…
La persona que era y el carácter que tenía son sombras lejanas en mi memoria
Pero hay algo que nunca se pierde:
Un alma que vive, que sobrevive, que sabe exactamente cómo seguir adelante...
Al fin llegará el día en el que mis pies toquen mi tierra
***
Mi tierra dejó la puerta abierta.
De joven pensé que eso era para que yo me fuera…
Pero ahora sé que la puerta está abierta para que yo regrese
No fue un adiós, sino una promesa de retorno
Y volveré más fuerte, más resiliente y más sano
Como un viajero que ha cruzado el desierto
y aún lleva polvo dorado en los ojos
***
El Sáhara ni termina ni empieza…
No conoce ninguna frontera …
Es un gran cuerpo en Marruecos, Mauritania, Libia y Sudán.
Y otros otros más
La llaman el Sáhara grande…
tan grande como mis sueños
Con lunas y estrellas que guían el caminante
Hacia el destino, hacia la certidumbre
Y el alcanzo de los sueños
*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
Like a traveler who has crossed the desert
And still carries golden dust in his eyes.
This was so beautiful.. 🥺
You captured a genuine dream that I think many people have: the desire to 'return,' even if they have never left their home. The desire to 'return' to happier times, former homes, better states of health, is something we all share.