The Chinese smog swirled in
long before I immigrated
with the blue Korean skies
to form the gray white dome
that locked me into that country
to capture a picture
of me, cowering,
and turning my face away
from American politics
to gaze into the waves
of the ocean that could topple me
and being shaken, instead,
by the North Korean bomb tests

I tell my friend,
“I was safe there, I was happy.”
and she says, “That isn’t true,
though, not really.
You’re just romanticizing
because you feel lost
and you think maybe
it will help you
not to cry so much.”
She remembers everything
and is grounded
while my memories shift
and swirl continuously
casting a new light
on each country

I hear cicadas in my ears
from my Puerto Rican engagement
I tilt my head
but they won’t escape me
I hear the prostitutes calling
from a haze of red lights in Thailand
and walk past it into a cloud forest
on the Nicaraguan mountains

i keep thinking
“Is this true? Is this happening?
Is this my home country?
Can this really be our president?
Are we safe? What will happen?”

I look up and I’m domed in
these American skies
are as white today
as that old pollution
I look down
and I see my knees,

7 thoughts on “Ungrounded

  1. I’ve felt this fog, this lack of a home… feeling a little like that bag floating around with the breeze. I’ve shed old skin, finally making my own home, I think. And ironically those politics have reaffirmed my drive. Thank you for sharing.

    1. although this poem doesn’t express that feeling of being grounded in the US, I am doubly so because of the current politics, somehow. I want to fight to keep what is threatened. You’re expression of what i feel on stronger days is beautiful and accurate, thank you for sharing.

      1. You’re writing made me reflect on my past emotions and where I have arrived in the past couple of years and it was a good reminder.

      2. yours reminded me that i have stronger days, and on those stronger days I know with vehement certainty that I belong here ❤

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