
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