Almost three years now
Three lost years of a lifetime in America
And I am yet to reclaim myself
I still have my accent
I still wear kohl in my eyes
Almost as if in denial
of a life that I am living
What brought me here
The promises, maybe
What else, I wonder
A piece of bread, a slice of memories
A cup of chai, brewed hard
just like at home
just like all my attempts of creating a homeland
I keep trying
But my one-room apartment is so American
the wallpapers, the wooden floors, the smoke alarms
I give up now and then
Of course it is a wretched life
But I continue on
Every now and then, I start to pack my bags
All the time, I put off buying new plates
The old ones are chipping off
I am going back, I tell myself
Just a few days more
And I wait
And I hope
And I continue
3 comments:
So are you still thinking about going home?
yes ... because this is not home
very heart-warming...resonates with those still longing for a slice of home
Post a Comment