Thus I Wrote

You're never alone, if you've something to share

My Mother’s Country

with 3 comments

Titian b&w

You reach out through clumsy words,
Through shared things and scenes
You want me to like them too,
And for a while I miss what you mean…

Your music is alien to me,
I see what their faces lack,
I listen to their stories,
And it brings me all the way back.
This was the country I left behind,
A country of catholic sin,
A country alien to me,
But that they felt at home in.
Once I thought I was better,
But now I just feel alone,
I have no real country,
And I have no real home.
I ripped all that tried to cling to me,
Because I needed to be free,
To travel on my quest,
To find out who I must be.
To become the butterfly,
I shed my caterpillar skin,
And on a wheel of stone,
The start has now come again…

Then I hold your hand,
I listen and watch you smile,
Now love drowns our differences
After a little while.

Written by thus.i.wrote

December 9, 2015 at 1:36 pm

3 Responses

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  1. This perfect for the immigrant, people who like me have for years try to live in that duality of were to belong to


    January 18, 2016 at 1:21 am

    • Yes…its often the case for the first generation….Thanks.


      January 18, 2016 at 1:45 pm

      • I think us who abandon the land of our ancestor at that tender age of teen, feel like we belong to no one


        January 18, 2016 at 2:45 pm

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