second generation

person holding clear glass ball
Photo by Nizam Abdul Latheef on Pexels.com

 


i can hold my own in a conversation not in my language /
because i’ve learnt it, piecemeal, in response to demand /

but wait – it should have been my language all along, right /
and the fact that it isn’t /
is actually my fault /
and the fault of this (overly) free country i was born in /
and the fault of the experiences that just don’t seem to line up /

it’s amazing how wrong you can feel /
about your life that is supposedly so right /
and how you have to be a different person in each of your circles /
so that no one will know the many ways in which you don’t fit in /

it’s both maddening and heartbreaking to know /
that you’ll never be good enough /
for the people who supposedly resemble you the most /

silence

red and blue hot air balloon floating on air on body of water during night time
Photo by Bess Hamiti on Pexels.com

 

i get that we need to communicate and share, and lead

but sometimes i just miss being quiet.

 

there is so much going on when nothing is being said,
so many paths forming, so many ideas becoming concrete

so many particles of being vibrating at just the right
frequency to feel at one with the whole

 

silence is to speaking as dreaming is to waking

for me at least, it needs to be a regular thing