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Strano Essere Straniera

Digital Multimedia, Pinhole Photography, Poetry, Video

As I sit here in this lawn chair

The grass is tall and wild flowers bright

The sun warm and breeze cool

Rustling the tree branches

And raising the hair on my arms


I reflect

And search for the words

That could describe these months


These months of joy, the purest joy I’ve ever known

These months of heartache, and heartbreak

Months of meeting, and parting


It is strange

To meet people who change your life so

And stranger

To part with souls you love dearly

To carry with you

The lessons they taught you

And the smiles you shared


It is strange

To form a sisterly bond with someone

Who lives halfway across the world

And stranger

When she has to return to her country


Strange to fall so deeply in love with someone

And stranger

To live at a distance from them


Strange when someone makes an impression

And stranger to learn that you have made one yourself


Strange to call foreign streets home

And stranger to say goodbye

To return to what’s known


Strange to become accustomed

To another way of life

And stranger

To remember your own

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