Jigsaw City

by lonewolfpoetry

I’ve heard this city called a multicultural city

but it doesn’t feel that way at all.

I walk for miles and notice the changes,

crossing invisible, unspoken walls.

Subtle shifts in grocery shops, hairdressers,

the types of clothing you can find.

I laugh at those who say we are blended

like some exotic smoothie, combined.

Black cheek rubbing against white.

 

We are a jigsaw city.

Fit together so snugly

that it’s hard to see the borders.

The mosque may gently brush

against the Catholic Church’s side,

but no-one dares transgress

the un-parted sea divide.

To the untrained eye we look united,

snoring gently by one another.

But these hidden boundaries sever us,

they blind us to our brother.

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