The culture I was born into is not the culture I was raised in.  

The juxtapositions of these two cultures courses through my veins, furiously, without an abode. 

Where am I to seek a nest? Where am I to lay at rest? 

At home, I’m a foreigner. At foreign, I’m not at home. 

A stranger in the land that knew me for the better part of my ambiguous life.

What is mine? What is theirs? What is neither’s? 

Adjustments. Translation. Sacrifices.

Ancestral heritage I inherited. 

Where I belong anymore, I do not know. And I do not seek. Not anymore.

Unease lies at rest but,

I’ll never be at rest.