A poem about belonging by my Friend Valerie. Courtesy of Celebratingchange.blog
The TV presenters are shouting.
Every line they deliver is accentuated by dramatic pauses and rising crescendos.
I scan the jammed airport terminal,
attempting to spy a man under forty not clad in a cap.
The voices are too loud; jarring.
I have returned once more to the U. S. of A.
“Welcome home,” they beam at immigration.
The stamp comes down upon the page of my passport,
signifying yet another Trans-Atlantic crossing;
but these alien surroundings no longer feel like home.
When had my alignment shifted?
My internal compass persistently swings me back to that island nation of
patchwork fields and cobbled cities,
cloaked in history and flush with culture.
I am gaping at my “light bite”;
freshly perplexed by the mammoth sandwich that spills past the plate’s edge,
as if boasting its own preposterous proportions.
My stomach turns as ruckus commotions ricochet around me; obnoxiously intrusive,
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