That Meeting Ground

I spoke to a close friend of mine today. We share a lot of things, yet the one thing we do not share is our nationalities. As we were discussing whether it would be better to meet up in Canada or Dubai, this thought struck me:

You live across from me
Across that street
Across that line
The one we're not allowed to cross

I can stand at my gate
Yet I cannot see you
I can wave to you
Yet have no idea if you're waving back
Even though you live across from me
Across that line we're not allowed to cross

I want to see you
I want to cross the street
I want to cross this line I can't see
But they hold me back
The voices, the anger, the resentment
They are not mine, yet they surround me
They won't let me cross
All I can do is stand at my gate and wave
Hoping, that you're waving back

I want to see your house,
The one I saw in pictures
I want to see your family
Whom I heard you talking to on the phone
I want to see your friends
Who you always spoke about
I want to see your neighbourhood
Which sounds very similar to my own
I want to see you

We're neighbours who cannot meet
Living in a suburb of rivalry
Looking for a common ground
One that is far from our homes
Where there are no voices, anger or resentment

But that meeting ground comes at a price
I can see you
But I still cannot see your home
The one I saw in pictures
I cannot see your family
Whom I heard you talking to on the phone
I cannot see your friends
Who you always spoke about
I cannot see your neighbourhood
Which sounds very similar to my own
I cannot see your country
Which sits next to my own.