Belonging

What is home?

sometimes I feel I have a foot in each country,

my legs lay witness to the vast unknown of the sea

I visit one, and live in another-

yet I never feel like I truly belong.

In my birthplace, I am asked: 

Where are you from?

And yet, I was born not 20 miles from where we stood.

in the land of my ancestors,

there too I am asked of my origin

So, I am left with the feeling of being lost, misplaced,

with no real sense of Home.

when I am at my birthplace for a while,

I can’t imagine life anywhere else

And yet, when I go to the other half of my identity,

I feel like I can never leave.

it feels right to be there with my family,

It feels like home

but when I go back,

to the place of my birth,

I am Confused

How can I feel like I belong, yet so out of place in both countries?

who am I?

I wonder-

maybe home doesn’t have to be one place, one country 

maybe home is the place where you feel you belong

maybe home for me means both countries, both sides of my family

maybe I don’t have to be split in two, to pick a side, to choose.

I may still have a foot in both countries

I may still have an accent that is debated about,

But I don’t have to pick who I am

i know it’s okay to be both- 

And I know- 

it is me 

 

 

 

 

 

Those Puppet Strings ►

Comments

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Don Matthews

Fri 13th Sep 2019 22:43

I like this Kate......

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keith jeffries

Fri 13th Sep 2019 21:39

An interesting poem which assails many people in a world which causes us to be very peripatetic. The old adage says that the home is where the heart is. Some search for a spiritual home and others never find home because there was no home in the first place. I now live sixty miles from where I was born 70 years ago and I know I am home.
A very good poem. Well done and thanks
Keith

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