Soil in My Veins - By Joe Lyimo

Written By: Joe Lyimo

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the poignant poem "Soil in My Veins," Joe Lyimo, a gifted poet, shares a deeply personal narrative of identity, resilience, and the diaspora experience. Contributing to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Joe, originally from Tanzania and now residing in Austria, captures the essence of a journey marked by survival and self-discovery. Through his introspective verses, Joe invites readers to explore the themes of belonging and perseverance, reflecting his unique perspective as both a refugee and a storyteller.

About the Work

"Soil in My Veins" is a heartfelt exploration of Joe Lyimo's life, skillfully weaving together themes of cultural identity and endurance. The poem's vivid imagery and emotive language paint a picture of a life shaped by both Tanzanian roots and the challenges of adapting to new surroundings. Joe's work delves into the complexities of diaspora, capturing the essence of a spirit that bends but does not break. His voice resonates with authenticity and power, offering a testament to the strength found in shared stories and communities.

Soil in My Veins

Original Submission by Joe Lyimo

Soil in My Veins

By Joe Lyimo

My name is Joe Lyimo.

I am 27.

Born in Tanzania.

Now breathing Austrian air.

Refugee.

That word follows me like shadow.

But today I am here

not to beg for pity

but to claim space.

To speak what the diaspora knows in our bones.

I left home when the ground shook under me.

Not earthquake.

Fear.

Gunfire in the distance.

Whispers of danger that grew loud.

I walked paths that cut feet.

Crossed water that swallowed friends.

Slept under skies that didn’t care.

Every step asked: Will you make it?

Every morning answered: Keep going.

Tanzania lives in me still.

The smell of nyama choma on open fire.

The sound of Lake Victoria waves at dawn.

Grandmother’s voice singing in Swahili,

telling stories of ancestors who carried fire through dark nights.

I carry that fire now.

It burns quiet in my chest

even when snow covers Viennese streets

and people stare because my skin tells a different story.

They ask: Where are you from?

I say Tanzania.

They nod, but eyes say: outsider.

Papers, stamps, interviews, waiting rooms.

Waiting becomes a language I speak fluently.

Waiting for permission to exist here.

Waiting for the day no one questions my right to breathe this air.

But listen.

I am not waiting anymore.

I am here.

I learned German words to buy bread,

to ask for work,

to explain why I wake up tired.

My tongue bends around new sounds,

but my heart still beats in rhythm with djembe drums back home.

I dance in kitchens when no one watches.

I pray in Swahili under streetlights.

I laugh loud when friends from Ghana, Nigeria, Somalia gather.

We share ugali, injera, fufu.

We trade stories like currency.

This is the diaspora.

Not scattered pieces.

A new family built from survival.

They talk about perseverance.

Perseverance is not a museum word.

It is my mother hiding money in her wrapper

so I could escape.

It is my father’s silence when he knew I had to leave.

It is children in camps drawing hope on dirt floors.

It is every Black person who woke up today

and decided to keep living

despite the weight.

We are the ones who crossed oceans in chains long ago.

We are the ones who crossed deserts yesterday.

Same spirit.

Same fire.

We bend.

We do not break.

We fall.

We stand again.

We lose homes.

We build new ones in hearts, in voices, in this space right now.

I stand on Austrian soil,

but Tanzanian earth is still under my nails.

I carry red dirt in my veins.

I carry songs my ancestors hummed while working fields.

I carry pain that turns into power

when I open my mouth.

This poem is not charity.

It is my turn to speak.

To say: We are here.

We are whole.

We are not your tragedy.

We are your teachers.

We teach endurance.

We teach joy in the middle of storm.

We teach connection when the world tries to divide.

To every Black person reading this:

Your story matters.

Your accent matters.

Your scars matter.

Your laughter matters.

You did not survive just to shrink.

You survived to stand tall.

To fill rooms with truth.

To remind everyone:

Black lives are not problems to solve.

Black lives are proof that life finds a way.

I am Joe Lyimo.

27 years young.

Refugee.

Survivor.

Storyteller.

Son of Tanzania.

Brother to the diaspora.

Today I connect my past to this present.

I bring soil from home

and plant it here

so something new can grow.

For we rise.

Not because it’s easy.

Because we have no other choice.

And because rising together

feels like freedom.

This is our story.

This is our voice.

Let it echo.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious platform celebrating the art of words. This event invites writers and poets worldwide to share their unique voices and stories. With a focus on creativity, diversity, and expression, the competition provides participants with an opportunity to showcase their talent and connect with a global audience. It is a testament to the vibrant world of contemporary literature and the powerful narratives that emerge from diverse experiences.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Joe Lyimo for sharing "Soil in My Veins" with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. His poignant narrative and evocative imagery offer a powerful glimpse into the resilience and spirit of the diaspora. Thank you, Joe, for your contribution and for reminding us of the enduring strength found in shared stories and cultural connections.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.