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.