merica

for love she crossed an ocean
enduring much pain
well over a decade later
she crossed that same ocean again

in this place she once called home
she is a foreigner – a stranger
first fatherless, now motherless
she feels naught but loss & danger

outside her mother’s apartment
she stands at the end of the drive
bathed in surreal sunlight
thinking of reasons to stay alive

“go back to your own country”
yell teenaged voices from a passing car
her grief morphs into rage:
who do these assholes think they are?

she’d seen all the news reports
in the Times, on the BBC
now, the day after her mother’s death
she’s faced with the ugly reality

“I so don’t wanna be here,”
is what she thinks as she wipes her eyes
“I don’t wanna be in this place,
where such behaviour’s been normalised”

escape to her is granted:
her friend pulls up in the car
relieved when the car moves forward
she tries to process this newest scar

heart shattered by grief
brain dead with shock
she longs for her red front door
with its tarnished, old-fashioned lock

“what happened?” asks her friend
“you all right – you okay?”
sadly she recounts events
as her friend drives the car away

for the moment, she is safe
she sits in the seat & she cries
“what a messed-up thing to happen,
& the day after your Momma dies”

copyright © 2017 KPM

 

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