By Julietta Gramigni
What it’s like
To hold each pretty piece
Of a family
So fractured,
So scattered.
You don’t understand
How far I
Became
From where my
Parents and their parents
Were rooted.
You don’t understand
This conflict, question,
Yearning
I’ll never know your words
Well enough,
Though, they were sung to me,
Guided me
And brought me into
A land that rings
From somewhere
Inside and is somehow
So deeply home
I break every time we
Say goodbye.
Post Views:
385