Roots hanging loose.
This vagrant life brings me up short.
I live on two planes
On one I have a house and life
My children go to school
I shop the local stores and mow the grass
“My friends know each other
So calm and bland
And yet lonely
I’m not quite plugged in.
And on the other plane life is askew.
The times change, but more the places.
My friends are rich and deep
My English falls apart.
My chameleon ears assume the local dialect.
I sound like a foreigner, but who knows from where.
Some days I can’t remember
How to say thank you.
Most frequent is the rootlessness
I have no fixed abode
I stand, confused at where I am
Always an alien
My life is in transit
My dreams are chaos
I don’t know where I’ll wake up.
Only God can live on shifting planes.
Only God can help me wake in peace.
With roots hanging loose.
View the original print magazine where this article was first published.