Is it the heartfelt, colourful kisses of a princess called "Catalunya"?
Is it the bravery to sing and dance without shame in the fields of Cymru?
Is it the memory of Melek Taws, who must survive painful flames?
Is it the goasil flower whose beauty has seen empires fall, much older than the American one?
Is it the handmade shoes and sweet dates that whistle "Baluchistan" under the wind?
Is it the call for "Woman Life Freedom" when it is heard by fearless she-warriors?
Is it a YouTube Channel that brings new life to a language?
Is it the resistance against the departure of the young unemployed from the Island with Three Mountains?
Is it your grandmother's voice telling old tales about Hiderlezi?
Is it the cloth of the Ogaden, sewn to help brave young men in the dry and deserted land?
Is it the wish to see the river-filled mountains of Tibet again for the first time?
Is it the heavy fight to carry the name "Arab"?
Is it the peaceful Islamic call to prayer that rises above a destructive tsunami?
Is it the feeling on your fingers when they touch the guitar strings, dreaming of a Nagalim without borders?
Is it the light in your eyes after you listened to God's words in your ancient Assyrian ways?
Is it the sacrifice of your great-uncle, who died on faraway earth, to protect the poor and powerless?
But I? I could never answer what a Motherland would mean to me.
Because the great, dear God chose a very different destiny for us.
He wished us to become the joy of the people
to collect your honey
and your tears.
Thus, we want to alleviate your pain with songs of broken souls.
Thus, we implore you, welcome the Roma into your Homelands
and let us share our grief and laughter with one another.
