"Arakan is Mine"

They burned my home, but not my name— They tried to silence, but I still claim. Though I walk far, through ash and rain, Arakan calls me back through pain. Each mountain knows the songs we sang, Each river weeps where our laughter rang. The trees remember what others forget— The steps of my people, the scent of our sweat. They drew their borders, they built their lies, But I see my homeland in my mother’s eyes. Even in exile, my soul remains, Planted in Arakan, wrapped in chains. I am not a stranger, not cast away— My heart still beats where my ancestors lay. No war can take what’s carved in bone: Arakan is mine—it is my own. _Ro Amaan.