Welcome, But You Don’t Belong

An Ode to Paul Laurence Dunbar and Langston Hughes

Introduction

This poem is an ode to two literary giants—Paul Laurence Dunbar and Langston Hughes—whose timeless works “We Wear the Mask” and “I, Too” echo the complex rhythms of identity, resilience, and quiet resistance. Their verses illuminate the paradox of living in a nation that extends welcome with one hand while withholding belonging with the other.

Like them, I navigate the tension between visibility and invisibility, between pride and pain. I, too, wear the mask, one that smiles while concealing truths too heavy for casual conversation. I, too, sing America, even when my voice is met with silence.

My poem, “Welcome, but You Don’t Belong,” is a reflection of this duality—a meditation on the struggle to claim space in a land that questions your presence, even as it benefits from your labor and love. It is a story of standing in the doorway, invited in, yet never quite embraced.

The Poem

Welcome, but You Don’t Belong
by Rameir A. Martin

They opened the door with a practiced smile,
A gesture rehearsed, polite for a while.
"Come in," they said, "we’ve saved you a seat,"
But the warmth in the room never reached your feet.

The walls were adorned with stories not yours,
The laughter like locks behind unseen doors.
You nodded and smiled, played along with the song,
But deep in your chest, you knew it felt wrong.

You were the echo, not part of the sound,
A guest in a place where roots never found.
They clapped when you spoke, but their eyes looked away,
As if hoping your presence would quietly stray.

You are welcome, yes, in word and in tone,
But belonging is more than a space to be shown.
It’s the look that says, “You’re part of this thread,”
Not the silence that hums, “Be grateful instead.”

So you stand at the edge, not bitter, just wise,
Reading the truth in their well-meaning lies.
And you carry your name like a lantern of flame,
Seeking a place that will honor the same.

Closing Thoughts

In the shadows of Dunbar’s mask and Hughes’s quiet defiance, this poem seeks to add another voice to the chorus of those who live in-between: acceptance and alienation, between invitation and integration. It is not a lament, but a lens. Not a cry, but a call.

To be welcomed is not the same as being embraced. And yet, in the search for belonging, there is power in naming the disconnection. There is strength in standing at the edge, lantern in hand, illuminating the path for others who walk the same road.

May we continue to write, speak, and live in ways that make space not just for presence—but for true belonging.

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